A Model Romance
by sweetprincipale
Summary: Set in early S. 6, a reluctant Spike and Buffy head out of town to investigate mysterious activities going on at a modeling agency where six disappearances have been reported. Forced to work together when they have no one else to help, a romance develops.
1. Chapter 1

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

Part I

"Hullo, Magic Box." Giles answered the phone, tugging one of his personal books from Anya's strong grip.

"I need to talk to you." A familiar voice hissed.

"Can I call you once I get home?" Giles looked around furtively.

"I'd rather get this over with fast."

"Let me get into the back office. I'll call you right back." Giles stopped putting his object d'magic in boxes. He'd made the decision to leave, but hadn't told anyone yet. Anya thought he was just trying to keep his stock separated from the store items. "Anya! I have to go over some invoices. Would you stay up front and keep an eye on the register?"

"Yes! I will. Move, move, move, getting to the register!" Anya sounded thrilled with her assigned task and bustled past several startled patrons.

Feeling sure that Anya wouldn't leave the till to come get him unless of dire emergency, Giles sat at his desk in the far corner of the back room, and dialed.

"Glad you could call back, Giles."

"Angel, what is this? Another vision? Word from the underworld, or the overworld?"

"No, strictly small stuff- I hope. But it does need to be stopped." Angel explained. "Do you know Cliffside?"

"Yes, about halfway between Sunnydale and Los Angeles?" Giles pulled off his glasses and squinted around his desk for his leather notebook. From Angel's worried tone, this sounded like information worthy of writing down.

"There's a modeling agency there. In twelve weeks, they've had six models disappear without a trace. Four females and two males."

"Well, a serial killer, perhaps? I don't mean to make light Angel, but it hardly sounds unusual-"

"I'm not done. I went up there. Someone tipped off one of my contacts that the agency was shady. Giles, don't you think it's odd that a modeling agency has almost no mirrors? And almost no windows, or outdoor facilities for natural lighting?"

"Vampires? Running a modeling agency? Well, that is new."

"I'm not saying it is vampires. There are plenty of demons who can't take the sun or reflective surfaces. Something other than human is in there, there's a weird scent- plenty of human, and then an undertone of something ancient, dead, evil."

"And how do I come in?" Giles asked. "I assume you want Buffy's assistance, but at the moment she'd not really up to-"

"It has to be her. I already went in, my cover was blown right away. I couldn't find out much. I did find that all the models they hire? No portfolios are required. No contracts ever get signed by the models, but the place pulls in plenty of big name clients for freelance work. And the place is run down, shabby, not the place you'd expect to get A-list clientele."

Giles remained unmoved. "You have plenty of resources."

"I've also got my hands full. Giles, women and men, barely out of their teens, are disappearing! They could be dead, they could be hidden some place, waiting to be rescued. I'm known there now, I don't stand a chance of getting in."

"What's your idea, then?" Giles sighed at last.

"This Friday there's an open call for models. I think Buffy and one of the gang should go down and investigate."

"How would that work? How can you even be certain Buffy would be chosen?"

"She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, Giles, and I've seen thousands." He whispered. "But don't let her go alone. Maybe Willow could go with her. She's a natural redhead, photographers love that, plus she can cast a spell if she needs to make them choose Buffy."

"I agree she shouldn't go alone. I'll see what we can do. She's not been-well, of late."

"I know. But she'll go. She always goes where she's needed, where there's a fight."

"Yes, and that's part of the problem." Giles muttered. "I'll speak to her tonight."

"Don't tell her who told you." Angel ordered.

"I won't." Giles replied in an equally forceful tone, and rang off as soon as Angel had given him some information on Cliffside and Melissa Modeling.

Later that night, all of the Scoobies were gathered around the Summers' living room. Giles explained the situation, and sure enough, Buffy sprang to her feet almost before he had stopped talking. "I have to go! I have to stop this thing!"

"Whoa! Slow down, Buff. We don't even know what this thing is." Xander cautioned.

"And you can't go alone!" Dawn spoke up, nervously twisting her hands. "Something's killing people. You need someone to watch your back. I could go!"

"Dawn has long legs and youthful features. There's a big market for models like her, but they have to be over 18 because of the compromising positions advertisers like to use to correlate sex and their products." Anya said matter-of-factly. "But we could get her a fake I.D."

"No! A thousand pounds of no! Dawn doesn't get into compromising positions. And not to add to the badness, but if she misses any more school, they'll probably send Child Welfare over here."

"I-I would go, but- midterms." Tara looked upset that she couldn't be more helpful.

"I need you to stay here and look after Dawn anyway." Buffy said comfortingly. "And Willow- midterms?"

"I could probably teleport to and from Cliffside each day-" she began, but then caught Tara's eye. "Except that I'm not doing any magic this week."

"Okay. Xander, Anya?"

"I can't leave my crew, Buffy, I'd get fired."

"And he can't get fired, and I can't miss work, because we have a wedding to pay for." Anya held Xander's arm with affectionate possessiveness.

There was only one person left in the room, and all eyes turned to him. "What, me? Please, I don't flatter myself that much." Giles snorted.

"Then I go alone. I have no problem going it alone."

"She likes being alone." Dawn muttered bitterly. "Rather be alone than with us..."

Buffy pretended not to hear. How could she deny it, anyway? Impossible, now that her stupid sing along from last night had let everyone know she was pretty much still dead inside, longing for heaven and feeling as though she'd been cast straight into hell. She did like being alone, or at least, not with people who kept looking at her with worried or pitying eyes, now turned into stares of apology and regret. "I'll be fine. I'll check in every day."

"There is someone you could ask to go. He doesn't have anything to do anyway." Dawn spoke up. All eyes looked at her curiously.

"Who?" Buffy finally demanded, even though she had a sinking feeling she knew who Dawn would suggest.

"Spike! Duh. He doesn't have a job, or take classes. He's really strong and he looks out for you and me like we're his own family. Plus, he's totally hot."

"Dawn!" Buffy gaped at her sister for the last comment.

"No, it's true. He has flawless skin and big blue eyes, very prominent cheekbones and good bone structure. And from what I can see through his shirts, he has extremely well-defined abdominal muscles." Anya nodded with a pleased smile on her face. "That works out nicely."

"No! It doesn't!" Xander shook off his girlfriend's hand. "Spike? Alone with Buffy? He has that creepy obsession for her and Cliffside is over an hour away. We couldn't get there in time if he tried anything."

"Tried what? To glare at me? He has a chip, Xander." Buffy spat, resenting his implication that she couldn't handle a neutered vampire, a lovesick one at that. A very kind one. Who had kissed her last night until her toes curled and her insides twisted with that good, lowdown ache. It had only been a few minutes, before the affects of the musical demonic enchantment wore off, she told herself, but still. A man who could kiss like that wasn't making her list of top ten baddies to watch out for. "I still think I'd be better on my own. Spike probably doesn't want to come anyway." Buffy put her jacket on abruptly. "I'm going to go patrol. If I run into him, I'll ask him. Otherwise, I'm going solo."

Spike saw her before she saw him, for once. "Hi, Buffy." He sounded almost shy. He flicked his cigarette off a nearby tombstone, hopped down and faced her.

"Spike." Her tone was curt, and he looked surprised, then pained, then arrogant, all in a split second.

"We need to talk." He said.

"True. But not about what you want to talk about."

"We kissed, you and I, last night-"

"I know. And I'm sorry. Strictly spell-related, I promise."

"You weren't under the influence anymore than I was, Luv. That spell broke the moment his ugliness hopped it back to hell. I mean sure, we were still singin', but our actions-" He stepped uncomfortably close to her, "were our own."

"Mine weren't." She lied.

"Alright then. Nothin' more to say, I'd wager." Spike took a step back, glared at her briefly and shook his head. He turned to leave and Buffy remembered her topic of conversation.

She let him get almost to his crypt before she forced herself to speak. "Spike- there's trouble in Cliffside. I have to go there."

"Oh." Spike nodded slowly, hand on his crypt door. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, but feet still pointed in the other direction. _I'm going to get away from her, away from the stupid, good, sappy things she makes me feel_. "Keep an eye on Bit? You know you don't need to ask me that. I love Niblet."

"I know you do." Buffy's expression softened. And stayed soft. "Look, even though the kiss was purely a one-time spell thing, you have been a good-"

"Friend?" He held open the door, wordlessly inviting her in.

"Shoulder to lean on." She corrected, striding into his home. His face contracted in pain again, and she sighed. "Okay- friend-_ish_ type vampire."

"I'll take it." He smiled broadly.

"Giles is all freaked out about me going to Cliffside on my own. Probably something about me being dead recently."

"All the best folks are doin' it, Pet." He laughed, gesturing to himself. "But, I do kind of agree with the Watcher. You can handle yourself, Slayer, I know that, but it doesn't hurt to have an extra pair of hands if you've got demons to fight."

"Let me tell you the problems the town is experiencing, and then I'll ask you a favor."

"Favor's granted."

"You don't know what kind of favor I was going to ask for." Buffy smiled at him cheekily.

"Don't matter to me. You know I love you and I'm doing my damnedest not to fail you again."

"You didn't fail." Buffy admitted grudgingly. She would never acknowledge that love, but she knew he had tried to keep his promise to her, and that his perceived failure hurt him more than any rebuke she could dish out. She believed what she'd said, and had never done other than assure him of that fact. He gave her a grateful smile, and then cocked his head, listening to her as she tried to give him the condensed version of events.

"Sounds like somethin' nasty. And you're 'goin' undercover'?"

"That's the plan." She shrugged. "Don't even know why they think I'll get in as a model- must be the fact that they seem to want models who have the 'please kill me' look, and you know I've got that down."

"Yeah, well, I think it's part of the Slayer package, Luv." Spike lit up another smoke, distracting himself from launching into a description of her beauty and how of course she'd be signed on if the people doin' the hirin' had eyes. "So. This favor then. Keep an eye on Bit?" She hesitated and he raised his eyebrows. "Or something else?"

"W-well, it's just that Tara and Willow have midterms," She turned away from him, pacing as she rambled, gesturing with her arms, not looking at him. "- and Anya and Xander work, and Dawn is too young, and Giles is too old and they have this stupid idea about me going alone, like I mean, hey, I'm the Slayer,_ one girl _chosen, yadda yadda, most Slayers don't have a backing group, but here's me, with overprotective-"

Spike halted her nervous rant with an amused smile. "I can go with you, Pet."

She looked relieved. As she so often had around him lately. The one person who was supportive without asking for anything- except her love. Ha. As if she could give that. Not that he really made an issue of it, until she started giving him mixed signals with the hanging out and the kiss, and damn- maybe that's why he was doing it! "The fact that you'll be there doesn't mean anything. Doesn't change anything." She said quickly, harshly.

He twitched his neck, his fingers itching to take a blow at her. Superior bitch. Slapped in the face with her words, every bleedin' time he let her see even a glimpse of his soft underbelly. "Right. Then why have me? Obviously the fact that I care is a terrible thing."

"You _can't_ care! You need a soul to care." She laughed bitterly, wishing it wasn't so. "What you want is to be near me, so you can see me and have your fun little fantasies in your filthy mind. It isn't about caring."

"You admitted that I loved Dawn, not five minutes ago." His voice dripped ice. "You think that I took care of her even when you were gone, just because I got some kind of high off it? That I just look after her now because I get off on getting to see you?"

"Don't you?" She demanded, even though she didn't believe it.

Insulting his relationship with Dawn was his weak spot lately. Even Xander and Giles, who outright hated him, had come to a grudging tolerance of him this summer, and part of it was because of how they saw him interact with Dawn. He'd watched over her like a fallen guardian angel, been someone who grieved with her in a way that was dark and desperate, that the others couldn't emulate. When Xander, Willow, Tara and Anya had started to meet in secret, planning Buffy's resurrection, shutting the two of them out more and more, he practically became Dawn's parent, staying in the house with her more than he visited his crypt. "I love you. And I love Dawn. If you don't know that by now, you don't have a brain in your head or heart in your chest." He growled low, circling her. "I've changed, and I never gave you reason to doubt that I was on your side, not in over a year, Buffy. I changed, and you bloody well saw it."

"People can change. Demons can't. You're not a person. You're a demon in a person suit." She said in a shaking voice, reminding herself that this was true, so the sting of the passion in his words wouldn't infect her.

"I see. Then I'd best stay here, in my crypt, where dead things are s'posed to be. I doubt they want photos of demons in people suits."

"Fine." She turned from him, arms crossed over her chest. "Don't come with me. I don't need anyone, anyway."

By the time he controlled himself enough to reply, she was gone.

"Why wouldn't he go with you?" Dawn's voice was soft and sleepy. Buffy sat on the edge of her sister's bed, stroking her long brown hair, trying to put some sisterly feeling into her actions. The love for Dawn was there, closest to the surface, but still muted by her hardened heart, a heart that hated the world for selfishly refusing to let her take her well-earned heavenly rest. "Did you tell him about the dead people?"

"Yeah, but- he has to stay here. I need him to patrol while I'm gone." Buffy lied. Easier than telling the truth, _I threw all the help he's given us in his face and called him a demon in a person suit. Which he is, so why do I care what I said?_

"I don't buy that." Dawn sat up, looking hard at Buffy. "It's all my fault, isn't it?"

"What? No!" Buffy looked genuinely flabbergasted. "How could it be your fault, doofus?"

"He won't leave Sunnydale until I do. I'll talk to him. Tell him I'm okay and he can go, a-as long as he comes back." Dawn swung her legs over the bed.

"Can we back up here?" Buffy held up a restraining hand. "What are you talking about?"

"I keep forgetting you don't know about the - all the stuff that went on while you were away." Dawn gave Buffy a strained smile. "I kinda freaked out."

"Freaked out? Like how?" Buffy's eyes widened, all kinds of scenarios going through her head, each one topped with the refrain, _But of course no one would tell me if she did that because I'm just newly un-dead, and I can't handle stuff._

"Nothing! Major." Dawn fiddled her hands nervously. "I was so upset Buffy. Mom, and then Riley, and then you. I didn't want to get left by anyone ever again."

God, do I know that feeling, Buffy thought wearily. And that train of thought had often led her to the same conclusion- I don't want to be left, I'll do the leaving. "You- did you try to hurt yourself?"

"No- not really." Dawn's guilty expression belied her words. "I was thinking about it. And everyone was so busy keeping me safe from the outside world, they forgot that I might be in danger from myself."

"I am so going to kill someone." Buffy rose from the bed, blood boiling. Couldn't anyone do her job in her absence? Like look out for one grieving teen? Apparently not!

"No, it's okay! See, Spike figured it out. He was with me the most. He told me he noticed that I wasn't trying anymore, and that he knew what it was like to give up. Said he used to stand in the sun until he started to smoke, and think that, well, even if he wouldn't get to be where you were, at least he'd be out of the pain. And then he'd always say 'I made a promise to a lady, though'." Dawn broke the intensely grave mood with a girlish giggle. "And his voice was always all soft and faraway. I don't think anyone will ever call _me_ "a lady" like that."

"I hope not." Buffy muttered, overwhelmed by all these sobering admissions.

"But, yeah, anyway, I told him about the whole 'getting left' thing, and he promised he wouldn't leave Sunnydale until I did. He also asked me if I'd made you any final promise, and I told him about what you said. About asking me to live my life, even though it's hard. He goes all big and bad, with the bumpies, tells me that no one breaks a promise to you. Of course, he can't hurt me, not that he would, so I just poked him in the nose."

"You poked Spike in the nose? In game face? Are you stupid?" Buffy squawked.

"He didn't mind. Not much. He told me if I ever did it again he'd 'break my bloody nose, migraine or not.' And it's kinda nice, y'know? Having a vampire for a friend? They can't go to the beach with you or anything like that, but they're really hard to kill, and they don't get cancer."

"Yeah. Yeah, Dawn, that's good. But Spike isn't coming with me for another reason."

"Oh please! Patrol? The rest of the guys can handle it for a couple days, Buffy."

"He isn't coming." Buffy swiftly kissed Dawn's cheek and stood.

"You said something to him." Dawn stood up as well.

"I'll be fine alone." Buffy ignored Dawn's hurt look and walked from the room.

"You keep doing dangerous stuff alone and you'll end up dead all over again!" Dawn called through the door.

And wouldn't that be peaceful, Buffy thought longingly.

"Do you have enough money for the bus and the motel?" Giles tucked another few bills inside Buffy's knapsack while she was kneeling over her weapons chest.

"I do. I guess. I'm not staying in a nice place, that's for sure. God knows with the bills..." She trailed off. "If something happened to me- would Dawn have enough to live on until she's 18?"

"We would look after her." Giles said gravely. "Are you that concerned-"

"No! I'm just checking." She swallowed. She hated to leave Dawn in the midst of an argument, but Dawn wasn't speaking to her. She'd left her a note and kissed her goodbye as the sulking teen left for school, ignoring the haughty cheek that Dawn barely tolerated letting her touch.

"I must say, I thought Spike would be more helpful." Giles sighed. "Especially after that incident the other night."

"Incident? What incident?" Buffy demanded wide eyed. No one had seen them kiss. No one. If they had, she would lie, say it was the spell, say she hadn't wanted to just give in to some cold comfort.

"When he stopped you bursting in to flames and came to help rescue Dawn? Not that I thought for a moment he'd leave Dawn in danger, but-"

"Yeah, _he_ seems really good about actually looking after Dawn!" Buffy grunted angrily, slamming a fistful of stakes and a few daggers in her bag.

"Pardon?" Giles looked at her quizzically.

"Never mind." She whispered, zipping up her coat. "All right. I'm off then. I'll catch the 6:00 bus and call you when I get there."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come? I can bring paperwork and texts, spend the day quietly in the motel, but I could come to your aid if-"

"No." Buffy placed a gentle hand on her father-figure's arm. "I can do it myself. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? For me to stop relying on others to take care of my problems?"

"I suppose it was." He said with a sad smile. "But this isn't your problem, this is-"

The roar of a motorcycle muted Giles' words. "Oh please. Not more Hellions." Buffy looked at her watch. "They would do that. They totally would. I'm gonna miss my bus if I have to stop and slay something!" She stormed out the door, only to run smack into Dawn.

"Put this on." Her sister thrust a black helmet in to her hands. Buffy looked past her and saw a sullen Spike straddling a black motorcycle in the street.

"What? No! No, bad idea." Buffy hissed. "Spike!"

"I told her it was a bloody stupid idea and you wouldn't go for it."

"Then why are you here?" She demanded.

"Because I asked him to protect your sorry butt." Dawn jammed the helmet on over Buffy's head.

"Owww!" Buffy yanked it back off. "My hair- my earring!"

"Niblet- this isn't going to work. You get back on. We'll go get some blood and smokes and stop at Blockbuster."

"I can protect myself!" Buffy hissed at her, then took a few steps closer to the bike and hissed a repetition to the bleached man sitting on it.

"I know, I told her. She's stubborn." Spike rolled his head back and looked up at the twilit sky, an expression of exasperation on his face. "Wonder where she got that from?" He tossed Buffy an evil smirk.

He's so infuriating, Buffy fumed. And he has really, really hot lips. Oh no. Bad, bad, _bad_ Buffy. Not hot. No lips.

"Would you please just get on? I'll nag you. I'll get on the next bus and follow you." Dawn wheedled.

"Jus' get on, Slayer. She's small, but annoying." His wicked grin broadened. "Wonder where she-"

"Shut up!" Buffy forced the helmet on, and glared at Dawn. "You! You are so grounded when I get home." She reluctantly sat on the back of the bike, making sure no part of her touched any part of him. "Do your homework and listen to Giles and Tara and anyone else you're supposed to listen to. And don't cut class or -" Spike jerked away from the curb with a screech and Buffy yelped and grabbed him around the chest.

"Bye, Bit! No worries!" Spike shouted as he roared away.

"Hey!" Buffy yelled into his ear, as she thumped him smartly on the shoulder. "I wasn't done lecturing and threatening"

"Why I did it." He shrugged.

They rode in annoyed silence for about ten minutes. Buffy caved first. "You know I only agreed to this so Dawn wouldn't do something stupid."

"What?" Spike shouted over the rush of wind. Buffy groaned and pressed herself forward, pressing her open thighs to the back of his hips. Spike tried not to twitch, and bit his lip to hold in a low moan. God, thinking about what was between those thighs- no. No, he wouldn't think about that. Not going to pant after someone who thinks he's dirt. _Bloody hell, who was he kidding?_

"I said, I only did this so Dawn wouldn't do something stupid." She repeated loudly, right against his ear.

"Well, why the hell d'you think I did it? Bit came in like a snack-sized hurricane an' told me either I follow you or she would. An' since I can't put my hands on her to hold her back, and none of your lot would notice 'til she was halfway to Cliffside, I'm wastin' my night and who knows how many days with Buffy the Nutjob."

Another ten minutes of uncomfortable silence. "Just don't get in my way." Buffy finally said.

"I'm goin' to the soddin' model cattle call and I'm watchin' your ungrateful back."

"I'm not ungrateful!" Buffy jabbed his back with her knee.

"Oh, right." Spike laughed bitterly. "An' keep your hands and any other bits off the goods until we're stopped, yeah? Don't fancy rollin' the bike and ruinin' my ruggedly handsome face."

"Eww! You are such a pig! Like I would ever put my hands on your 'goods'."

"It's an expression, Luv." He said grimly.

"And I am not ungrateful!"

"You bloody well are."

"Why is everything bloody, is that a British thing or a vampire thing?" She asked in annoyance.

"I reckon it's both." Spike considered. "Now- if you're gonna play head games, would you just please shut your trap?"

"If you shut yours." Buffy sighed.

Neither one of them spoke until they saw the Cliffside city limits sign. Spike shifted his shoulders uncomfortably but remained silent.

"Spike." Buffy finally spoke again, thoroughly disgusted that three times in a row, she had been the one to speak first. Didn't he know girls hated that? Probably. It would fit in with the soulless annoying monster motif. But that wasn't what she had wanted to say. "Spike." She tried again. "I am glad you were there for Dawn. We talked last night. She told me how you helped her when I was gone. She told me a lot of things. I do believe- that you can care about her."

"Buffy," his voice sounded hopeful, and as soon as she began to speak again, he realized he was a fool, would always be a fool, to get his hopes up around her.

"But I don't think you can love. You need a soul to love. But care- that's a way less complex emotion."

"I see. And so you- you can love jus' fine then?" Spike asked with a sneer.

"Of- course- I can." Buffy stumbled over her words. Lately she hadn't felt like she could love anyone. Love meant giving, and all she wanted to do was get through the day. Damn him. Hitting close to home. She had a soul and she couldn't love, he didn't have a soul and he could? So not going to get metaphysical now. "I have a soul."

"Hot commodities, these souls." He wouldn't win with her. He wouldn't give up, but he wouldn't win. "Where are we stayin'?"

"I don't know. Find someplace that looks like it's cheap."

"Money still tight, Luv?" His tone softened, and he'd slipped back into using a pet name.

"Yeah. That demon trashing the living room didn't help."

"Things are okay though? You're gettin' by?" He trod carefully. He felt like he and Buffy were about to slip back into their complicated but friendly relationship, she'd talk, he'd listen, they'd joke and jibe, leave feeling the world was a bad old place, but had an occasional bright spot in it.

"Giles gave us some money to fix the house. It's the day to day bills that are going to kill us."

"Pet- if you need any money, I-"

"No. I don't. I really don't." She said, in equal parts because of pride and not wanting to feel soft towards him for trying to help her. He bobbed his head once, matter closed.

"Here's a likely looking spot." Spike turned into a motel parking lot.

"If by likely, you mean hellhole, yeah." Buffy laughed. The parking lot was littered, half the letters in the motel neon were burnt out, and it had peeling paint. "I hope it's cheap. I don't know how long we'll be here." A sudden horrified thought passed through her head and out of her mouth as he switched off the ignition. "We have to share a room. I can't afford two."

"Oh?" Spike couldn't let the opportunity pass. They got off the bike and Spike leaned over her. "Like that idea, Slayer?"

"Don't be disgusting." She spat.

"Oh, can you please remove the stake from your behind, Slayer? I've no desire to go where I am so clearly unwanted." He pushed away from her and strode towards the office. " 'Course if you change your mind on the wantin' score, I'd be happy to oblige, Pet."

"Ughh. Great. I get stuck with the horny vampire in a crummy motel. Why can't I ever get stuck with a millionaire in a mansion?"

"Dracula? Ring any bells?" Spike taunted.

"Shut up, Spike." She followed after him, trying not to blush.

"We'd like a room. Double."

"Two beds." Buffy added over Spike's shoulder. The clerk gave Spike a mocking grin and he turned to glare at her.

"Double full sized beds. Here's the key." Spike took the key and pushed Buffy away gently as she tried to come to the counter. Spike looked at the printed room prices hung over the counter, and forked out some cash. "We might need a few days."

"Pay as you stay." The man replied in a bored voice.

"Got it. Come on." He walked away from Buffy, holding the door open for her out of habit, wincing as she rolled her eyes at him. "Sorry! God, sue me for remembering my manners."

"You paid for the room!" Buffy slammed her bag hard into his chest.

"Wait, you're cheesed off at me for _that_?"

"You paid for the room!" Buffy hissed again, eyes flashing as she stomped off to their room, marching along the sidewalk until she found the cracking green doorway with the lopsided numbers.

"I wasn't tryin' to offend you!" Spike grabbed her elbow as he chased after her, making her angrily shrug him off. "Buffy! Buffy, listen!" He slid the key in the lock as she stood impatiently in front of it. Soon as the lock was thrown, she stormed inside, ignoring his words. "Fine! Don't listen. I paid 'cause I thought it would help you an' Bit out in the long run. I didn't book a second room, in case that's the other thing makin' you angry, because I don't have lot of dosh either. I wasn't tryin' to earn points, or make you obligated to me. God knows you're not obligated to me for anything, no matter what I do." He flopped backwards onto the nearest bed, raising a faint sprinkling of dust. "Egh! I'm dead, and I keep house better than this!"

Seeing him lying down gave her an odd feeling. Because her bed was about four feet away from his. "It's cheap. And we've slept in worse, I guess." She slowly took off her jacket, put her bag down. "Much better than a coffin."

Spike sat up, watching her petite form circle the room nervously, running her finger tips along the edges of the dilapidated dresser and chairs, wincing at the dust she pulled off. "Not big on sleeping in a box myself." He said quietly. She nodded silently, retreating into herself. "Here now. Did you eat before you left?"

"Mmhmm. Did you?" She asked automatically.

"I did. An' I brought a snack." He took a bag of blood and an ice pack from his duster pocket.

"You have ice packs?"

"No, that would be little Susie-Homemaker tryin' to convince me to go with you." Spike laughed and bit into the bag, not caring that it was chilled. It would keep him full until he could find a butcher in this dump.

"Dawn gives you ice packs for your blood?"

"Only if I'm travelin'." He laughed and drained the bag fast, knowing she hated to watch. He cast a quick glance at her, saw her gobsmacked look and turned his back, finishing and wiping blood off his lips.

"My sister is packing vampire lunches. Oh my God. The world is so screwed up."

"It's not so odd! I packed her lunch plenty of times! I mean, here I am, vampire, lookin' after the Slayer's kid sis. The whole bloody world is a farce, Buffy. You just have to do whatever you need to do to live in it." He had walked closer to her, close enough to touch her cheek before she realized his nearness and flashed him a look of panic. He backed away quickly. "It's early. Shall we go out, find somethin' to do?"

"Huh? No, I'm going to stay in."

"Stay in and do what? This place is strikingly limited in its entertainment facilities."

"I'm not going out with you!" She suddenly flared.

"Buggerin' hell, Slayer! I meant go out and find somethin' to do, so we don't sit in this squalor. I wasn't asking you to step along to dinner and a movie!" He threw up his hands and then tore off his coat. "Fine, stay in. Find something static-y to watch on telly."

Buffy kicked herself repeatedly as she tried to tune the fuzzy and ancient television to a channel with something worth watching. "I didn't want to tip off people that we're here. If something's watching us, something bad digging around to see if anyone new in town is a threat to whatever's going on at the modeling agency."

"Fine." He sat on his bed and dealt out a game of solitaire, not looking at her. But she was looking at him, making him feel like an exhibit at the zoo and damned uncomfortable. "What? What'd I do now?"

"Nothing!" She denied hotly. The truth was, she just didn't know what else to do with herself. It was far too early to sleep. Unless she was totally exhausted when she got into bed, she lay awake, or fell asleep only to be woken up with nightmares. Or worse, woken up to find her dreams of heaven were just that, dreams. She kept watching him, not even realizing she was leaning closer and closer, mesmerized by long white fingers flipping and flicking over cards, deftly flicking cigarette ash into the glass ashtray, twirling and tapping through his hair as he thought.

"Stop. Staring. At. Me." He finally growled out through clenched teeth, blue eyes looking up from under hooded lids, burning her.

"I'm a Slayer, I watch vampires. It's what I do!"

"Well, not this one! Luv, y'know I can't hurt you, y'know the last time I touched it you, it was to kiss you. What makes you think I've got to be watched all the sudden?"

With no answer worth admitting, she said quietly, "I'm going to go call Dawn. I forgot to." Buffy got up, ignoring his question. She left the room, heading to the pay phone that was in the parking lot. Spike stared after her, completely bewildered and cursing Dawn for making him come along on this fool's errand.

"Buffy!" Dawn sounded relieved. "You got there okay? You aren't fighting with him, are you? Because I pretty much blackmailed him into coming."

"We're not fighting much." Buffy offered brightly.

"Please be civil to each other." Dawn pleaded.

"Whoa. Giles-type word."

"Please, Buffy? I want him to keep you safe. I don't want you to go away again."

"I'll be nice as I can be." Buffy finally agreed, touched by the love in her sister's voice.

"Promise?"

"I promise." She said, though the words dragged heavily from her lips.

"I love you. Tell Spike I love him, too."

"I love you, Dawn." Buffy hung up before she could say more. No way would she tell Spike that Dawn loved him. It would only feed his delusion that he could love and be loved in return.

Spike looked up as she returned. Her shoulders slumped. Bit's been layin' into her, he thought with a silent chuckle.

"Thank you for paying for the room. It was a nice gesture." She shut her eyes tight and forced the next words out. "And I know you did it because you care about me and Dawn and what happens to us, and you don't want anything back for it."

He was moved, but he couldn't let her see how much. "That wasn't so bad, now was it, Luv?" She rolled her eyes at him, but cracked a smile. "Come on. Pull up some mattress." He shuffled up the cards and began to deal.

"The m-mattress?" Buffy looked at him in shock.

"In case you haven't noticed, Pet, there isn't a table in this room, and the floor hasn't been vacuumed since Nixon was in office. I figure the bed's the safest place to play."

"What are we playing?" Buffy reluctantly sat on the bed, far from him as she could, not from fear, but from self-preservation. Too close to those pale lips and those graceful hands and she'd be kissing him. And there wouldn't be anyone to go home to this time, no one would know-

"Poker." Spike broke into her thoughts. And then stopped. He sniffed quietly. No. She couldn't be. No, there it was, hints of a wet Buffy. Smelled it only two nights ago, not easy to forget, and he'd smelled it hundreds of times before when they fought, or when that Riley git was hangin' around her.

"I can't play poker! You know what our budget's like."

"We can play for other things than money." He purred.

"I don't have any kittens." She smiled sarcastically.

"You've got plenty in one cute kitten package." He grinned seductively, gesturing to her. The scent of arousal became almost overpowering, but so did something else. Some unknown fear in her eyes.

"I- I can't play for kisses." She muttered, looking at her cards.

"I know." He said with surprising compassion in his voice and manner. She looked at him gratefully, and that made it all the harder. Damn. Didn't she know how much he would love to give her anything she might need to get through this, to make her stay down on this soddin' mortal coil? But she didn't want someone to love her right now. Love makes you think, makes you feel, and it's harder to survive when you run on your heart and brains, not your instincts. So he turned the "badboy" back on. "How about strip poker?"

"What? No!"

"Ah, c'mon, Luv. Best get used to me lookin' at you."

"Why would I need to do that?" She demanded, leaning away from him.

"Hello? Modeling job tomorrow? Who knows what kind of things they want you to wear- or don't want you to wear?"

"It- I don't think Giles would've sent me to a place that does nude modeling." She croaked.

"Maybe not nude." He amended, licking his lips. "Maybe just some little wisps of nothin', though. Victoria Secret'd be a fool not to offer you a contract, Pet."

She blushed, and then got mad. Mad because she liked his compliment and she thought he might be right about what she'd be asked to wear. "I am not doing anything involving 'little wisps' of nothing!"

"So, you'd let a bunch of innocents die if you had to pose in your scanties?"

"No! Of- stupid vampire." She muttered. "What about you?"

"Me? I got no problem with my clothes bein' off. Apparently, I'm a right fetchin' piece of demon." He snarled, licking his lips as he smelled another gush of her sweet juice flow out.

"Just because you have all the modesty of a nudist camp, doesn't mean I'm like that. I'll be staying covered, at least while you're around." She retorted, trying to erase images of what Spike would look like naked. If his lower half matched his top half- Sweet Jesus.

"Play five hands, Luv." His voice ensnared. "Won't take long, with only the two of us playin'. You wouldn't be showin' me your goodies in that many rounds- unless you lose 'em all."

She hesitated. Looked at her cards. "Give me three." She slid back three cards face down, and took three new from his outstretched hand.

She lost the first hand. She smiled naughtily, reaching slowly up to her collar, making his eyes widen and his jaw sag- and took off her necklace.

"Tease." He muttered.

"Pig." She countered.

It was a good thing they were both going heavy on the jewelry today, Buffy thought as the fifth hand ended. Her necklace and two out of her five earrings were on the bed, as well as one of his silver rings and his thick linked silver chain.

"Good game." He said, respectfully keeping to their pre-set arrangement, gathering up her things and placing them tenderly in her palm.

"I didn't know you sucked at poker." Buffy taunted, pushing her jewels back to the center of the bed.

"Yeah, well, I'm goin' easy on you." He admitted.

"You aren't." She argued.

"I am." He glared. "And I'm not cheatin'. Even without cheatin', I could have you down to your socks in five rounds, if I wasn't tryin' to keep things in balance, be a gent."

"Oh, it is so on. Deal, Bleach Boy."

The only problem with playing strip poker with your friend slash enemy, who you are also feeling a sinful attraction to, is that you almost always know when they're bluffing. You've fought them enough to learn their movements, and you've got super senses to tell when someone's heart rate or body language shifts. And lastly, you want to give in to temptation a little bit, and you let your guard down.

"Not quite in my socks yet, am I?" Buffy kicked off her second shoe.

"I can see your socks, same difference." A shirtless Spike sneered.

"No, it isn't!" She pouted and tapped the deck, eager for him to deal again.

"Five more hands, and then we end this." Spike said firmly.

"Afraid of what I might get to see?" She teased. She mentally calculated- boot, boot, sock, sock, pants- the best she could get was Spike in underwear.

He did a quick run down, ignoring her bait, answering with a single derisive huff through his parted lips. Two socks, and then it would have to be either shirt or pants, and then would she go for the topless look, or the sitting in her perfectly matching cute underwear set look? Did it matter? God, she'd better not win all five, his stiffy was about to stab right through his trousers as it was.

His boot. Her sock. Her other sock. His second boot.

"Three of a kind." Buffy finally put down her last hand. He hesitated.

"I fold. You win." He smiled at her.

"Let me see your cards." She demanded.

"Why?" He asked, holding them close to his chest.

"Are you throwing this game?" Buffy sat up on her knees, a picture of tiny righteous indignation, and yanked the cards out of his hand. "This is a- a what is it called, a flushed straight?"

"A straight flush." He said, looking at the wall beside him. "So you caught me! Didn't feel right, an' I threw it. I'm a- what are you doing?" Still kneeling in front of him, she was nervously fiddling with the hem of her tight floral shirt.

"I don't like cheating." She said, and socked him on the nose.

"OW! Goddamn woman, I was -" Spike stopped like someone had yanked his tongue from his mouth. Buffy's shirt was spinning off over her head and onto the floor behind him. She only sat still for a moment, but her image burned itself into his memory.

"I'm gonna go take a shower before bed." She smiled in self-satisfied way, trying to ignore the way her whole body was shaking and walked with slightly unsteady steps to the bathroom.

He could die now. Oh God, yes he could die in much worse ways. She wasn't voluptuous, but she was gorgeous. Just enough to feel soft and warm in the palms of his hands. And that expanse of peach gold skin from waist to shoulders. And when she turned, that soft curve of her back. Like silk, he was certain. He knew without even touching it. And he liked the bra. Pink, but not frilly. Sod the bra, who cared what held them in? The fact was he had gotten to see the top halves of paradise. He knew'd probably never see the rest, and certainly that whole 'warm and soft in the palms of his hands' was ludicrous, but he'd gotten his little glimpse of heaven. He stood hurriedly. Gonna burst soon. Need a smoke, and need to get outside, where he couldn't smell her, where he didn't have to know that she was naked and wet only a very thin and easily breakable piece of wood away.

Ice water. Lots of it. She had sang that fire froze her, but what the hell was that undead piece of ice doing to her? She felt like lava was pooling inside her and she couldn't touch herself. If she touched herself she would a., burn her fingers off, or b., she'd make a noise and he'd know she had reacted to him. She couldn't let him know that. He'd tease her and trap her and- oh God wouldn't it be nice to have someone just trap her in a good way for once in her life?

She upped the water flow, not caring if she could actually see her breath in the freezing spray. He wouldn't let her forget it, that he made her weak and vulnerable.

He might not. He had tried to do some nice things lately. The room. Trying to throw the game in her favor. Helping with Dawn.

This is Spike! He knows how to act nice, but don't get his primal instincts involved, it'd be like shoving a fork in an outlet. The lava was still dripping down her thighs. _She_ needed an outlet, now.

"I'm goin' out for a smoke. Be a few minutes." His voice penetrated the thin plywood door easily, making her jump. It had sounded like he was right behind her. As soon as she heard the door slam- her fingers dove home to try and relieve some of the scalding ache.

He barely lit the cigarette and got to the dense tangle of overgrown bushes that surrounded the back lot before he had his belt open and his top button undone. He kicked his way through beer bottles and cans and assorted deteriorating pamphlets and newspapers, making sure he was completely hidden. He wouldn't take long, she'd done the rest for him.

He pumped twice, heard her voice in his head, had the fleeting thought that his seed should have been planted in her warm little haven instead of this trash strewn ground, and it was over. He breathed hard, letting hot smoke curl in his lungs and erupt from his panting mouth. And she said he couldn't love. Ha. Love is humiliating yourself just this side of public indecency because you won't let her know she'd drivin' you mad, in case she can't handle it. Love is pretending you don't know she's probably flooding the shower with hot juices of her own, and you know they're for you- because she feels ashamed of what she wants.

He knocked before entering, and she called to come in. She was dressed in sweats and a tank top, scrubbed and clean, probably trying to look as unsexy as possible. Didn't work.

"Nice shower?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah. Nice smoke?"

"Always is." He smiled.

"Uh- goodnight then?"

"Goodnight, Luv." He kicked his boots off and stripped back out of his shirt. He loosened his belt and froze. "Ha." He gave a single embarrassed cough. "I never stopped to consider-"

"Oh. Oh, no that's okay." She blushed and tried to look mature and carefree at the same time. "Sleep in your boxers if you want, I mean, they're just like shorts."

"Don't wear boxers, Luv." He said softly, a grin tugging the corner of his mouth.

"Briefs?" Her voice was a tiny bleat.

"No, not those either. An' before you jump to thongs, I just don't wear anything at all." He turned off the lights. "I'll be fine in my jeans. Sleep in 'em all the time anyway."

The silence was heavy on them both. Not to mention the supreme uncomfy-ness of the beds. Sleep wouldn't come yet. "You really do?" Buffy murmured.

"Really do what, Pet? Not wear skivvies? Yeah."

"I meant sleep in your jeans, blood breath."

"I don't prefer it, but yeah, I do, if I rest upstairs in the crypt. If I actually wanna have a proper sleep, I go down to the bedroom and- get comfortable." He glided over the part that was making him feel the hot coil of arousal wrapping around him again. Naked, even in the same room with Buffy, that had to be a head trip.

"I feel bad." Buffy remarked sullenly into the darkness. "And I'm really annoyed, because I shouldn't care. But you're being all helpful and nice."

"Does this conversation have an end, Kitten? Because you need sleep to impress the modeling yobs tomorrow."

"Be comfortable." She said curtly, and tucked her head under the musty quilt.

"Oh." He hesitated, then slowly, quietly, trying not to rustle, he slid the denim to the base of the bed, covering himself from the waist down with the sheet. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She mumbled. "You try anything-"

"I won't." He breathed.

"I know." She smiled to herself.

"Thanks." He said again, grateful for her vote of confidence.

"Shut up." She ordered.

"Bossy bint." He muttered, a peaceful smile on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive response to the first chapter._

Part II

She woke before the sun was up. They needed the darkness. This was going to be fine, plenty of time- if she could only deal with Spike. She cast a glance at the bed beside hers, hesitant unless she should find herself confronted with a naked, sculpted body that would put bad thoughts in her head.

Spike lay on his side, facing her. He had a sheet pulled up almost to his chin, only his head and slender but rippling shoulders surfaced above the bedclothes. He looks so innocent when he's asleep. I can almost see why you'd think he was someone you could care about. Not me, obviously, but someone else might. "Spike?"

"Yes?" His eyes flickered open and he sounded perfectly calm. Then he saw her and his eyes widened. "Ha. We _are_ on this crazy trip. Thought it was an odd dream." He started reaching down, fumbling under the covers. Buffy tensed and Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm gettin' my jeans on, Luv. And then I'm headin' to the shower, unless you'd like to go first?"

"You go ahead. But we have to hurry. We need to get into the agency before daylight, or before they open. I need to get into the personnel files."

"I'm hurryin'. I just need five minutes to scrub up." Spike announced grimly, stepped out of bed, jeans up but not buttoned, giving Buffy an eyeful of hipbones and a smooth alabaster triangle of lower abdomen. She looked away quickly, pretending not to see his smirk as he walked into the bathroom.

Her throat was tight and words were strangling her. She could hear the shower running and was picturing- oh God, really, really wrong things. "So vampires bathe?" She asked, just to distract herself from her lustful contemplations. She rummaged through her bag as she spoke, trying to find a nice outfit. She had make up in the bag as well, she needed that, had to look model worthy.

"Bathe?" Spike repeated, voice calling through the door.

"Yeah."

"I guess it depends, Luv. I do." Soon the shower water ceased and he stepped out almost immediately after, in a towel, jeans slung over his arm.

"Geez! Spike! Get dressed!" Buffy yelped.

"I will, Buffy. You said we were in a hurry, so I'm getting changed out here, and you go on and get your shower."

"Oh. R-right." She walked into the bathroom with as much dignity as she could muster, already feeling that the day was off to a bad start, one that had begun with her lusting after a vampire and jumping to conclusions. She hurriedly turned the water back on and undressed, not caring if the water was scalding or freezing, she just had to get in and wash off this cloudy mental feeling.

Spike lit up a a smoke and flipped through the channels. Nothing on at 4 in the morning, of course. He raked his platinum hair back with his pocket comb, and pushed his belt through the final loop. He couldn't see his reflection, but he didn't care. It's the attitude, Baby, he grinned cheekily to himself. He heard muffled humming as Buffy showered, and the leer left his face. All about attitude. Confidence and charm had no affect on that one. Nor did declarations of true love, nor viewing his violent passions. Stupid, bloody, unobtainable bitch-goddess. He groaned. The fact that he even thought up a term like "bitch-goddess" was depressing. Stupid chip. Stupid heart. Stupid Slayer.

A muffled cry of frustration-not the good kind- interrupted his musings. "Buffy?"

"Can you go outside for a minute?"

"Sure, but what's the matter, Luv?"

"I left my clothes on the bed." She admitted after a deep and annoyed sigh.

"I'm not a monster, y'know. I _can_ hand clothes through a door." Spike replied heatedly, and gathered up her pile of clothing in one arm, stopped to bury his head in it, inhale her, and called "Here, open up."

"You _are_ a monster." She reminded him petulantly, opening the door wide enough to stick one arm through.

Spike fought down his flash of anger, and played it cool instead. "Oh, right. I am. A monster." He backed away holding her clothes. "Then I'm not helpful, am I?" Her head peered around the door and he wavered. She looked annoyed and frustrated and tired. She said things reflexively, just like he did sometimes. "Take your things. I'm goin' down to the bike." He tossed them at her hard and turned away before she even snagged them.

They asked the stoned night-manager of the motel for directions to a butcher shop, an all-night market, and Melissa Modeling, which he gave without a second thought. All were fairly close by, and close to one another, so Buffy proposed they walk.

"I'm takin' the bike. Just in case. That bloke was seven sheets, Luv, for all you know he could have been givin' us directions that the magic mushrooms were whisperin' in his ear."

"Good point." She admitted grudgingly, and climbed on behind him, not even trying to keep away this time, pressed right to him, and slid her helmet on. "Why did you want to know about an all-night market?"

"You've gotta eat." He reminded her.

"Oh. Yeah." Sometimes she forgot she had to do the normal things unless someone reminded her, or her body gave her a signal of pain strong enough to penetrate her bleak haze.

"You'll get there." He whispered softly, but she heard him.

"Why are you so sure?" She asked eventually, not really certain she wanted to hear his take on it. He was usually annoyingly insightful, way more insightful than he had any right to be, in her opinion.

"I know you."

"No, you really don't." She said, her angry barb flying out before she could halt it.

"See, I know why you did that. You don't like the things I tell you. An' you also have that curious streak, so you ask me anyway. You let me in a bit, then push me away." He shook his head bitterly. "But what more does a demon in a person suit deserve, right? I'm only an image of a person, I only get an image of respect, it's not really there."

His words cut her more than she'd like to admit, and then she was angry for feeling anything provoked by him at all. "Spike-"

"No. Save it, Luv. You're right, I can't know what you feel, I can't know you. You won't let me. But I'm a pretty good guesser, yeah? You'll make it through this because you're a fighter."

She laid her head on his back. He was a frighteningly good "guesser", and she was so tired of keeping her walls up around everyone. She let them down the most with Spike. He didn't matter. Not really. So what she said wouldn't matter. Hadn't he even told her that this week, in his song, that she turned to him, to "whisper in a dead man's ear" so that what she felt wouldn't be real? "What if I'm tired of fighting?" She whispered.

"Then I'll fight for you." He said simply. Her arms tightened around his waist. Is she- hugging me? For once, once when it actually counted, he kept his mouth shut.

"You getting a vibe off this place?" Buffy asked, swallowing her rubbery, plastic wrapped sandwich. Spike knelt in front of the back door of Melissa Modeling, picking the lock with scary expertise. She peered around the dumpster, his lookout.

"Yeah. Crummy, cheap, dirty vibe. Where'd you get your tipoff, Luv?"

"Giles. He had a friend- or was it a customer- I don't remember, tell him about it." She hadn't been interested in too many of the details. Her brain worked in a specific sequence for survival. Where is the bad? What is the bad? What is it doing? How do I kill it? Go kill it.

"Not big on listenin' to Rupes myself." Spike grinned up at her, and she smiled back. "Annnnd- we're in. Quick!" He scuttled inside, pulling her along behind him. Once inside, they crouched, huddling in the dark and dusty interior. No alarms went off. "Another odd thing. Modeling agency should have an alarm, yeah?" She nodded and stepped in front of him, leading the way out of the narrow entryway and into a huge warehouse-like room. "This must be where they keep the props." Spike whispered as he looked around. "If they try to chuck us out in daylight hours, this is where I'll hide. Won't spot me in this clutter."

He was probably right, Buffy conceded. This back room filled with hundreds of pieces of jumble, and was deceptively large based on what the outside of the building looked like. The agency was a faded tan stucco, three stories with boarded up windows and a peeling, blue script sign that proclaimed "Melissa Modeling" as it faced the narrow town street. "The sign in front said hours are 7 am to 9 pm. We have hours to look around."

"You know that means I have to either get hired for night work or come in and hide out before first light." Spike muttered as they worked their way through the stacks of odds and ends and platforms heaped high with miscellaneous junk.

"Maybe they'll let you make your own schedule." Buffy huffed, shoving past a tower of boxes. Spike gave a noncommittal grunt and helped her through the door. "Why don't these places have any lights on? For the janitor or something?"

"Don't think there's a janitor." Spike mumbled, taking the lead again.

"What are you doing?" Buffy tried to elbow past him.

"I can see in the dark, remember?" He jerked his arm from her grip and crouched low, walking cautiously. "Glad we'll have so much time before the place opens. Didn't think an agency would have so many doors."

Eventually, they found an office filled with filing cabinets. Buffy looked at Spike as they went in, and watched as he tried one of the metal drawers. It slid out easily. "Wouldn't you lock your office? If it was full of confidential papers?"

"Maybe not, but I'd least lock the soddin' drawers holdin' the papers." He looked through the first drawer and nodded. "This is what we want. Info on the models, not the agency itself."

"It's a good place to start anyway."

"Do you know the names of the models who bought it? Or should I just look for a big red X on the file?" Spike asked, starting to flip through the papers in the opened drawer.

"No names. Four girls, two guys."

"Good." Spike smiled icily.

"How is that good?" Buffy demanded.

"Means they have as much chance of comin' after me as you. Sounds like an equal opportunity evil."

Buffy ignored his noble comment, and risked flicking on the small desk lamp. "Let's look through here and then try to find papers about the agency itself. This place looks old and crumbly- but disappearances only started 12 weeks ago."

"Under new management, you reckon?" Spike asked, looking at her as she spread some papers on the desk. Lit by dim lamp light, she really was even more lovely.

"I guess. I don't know. This is so weird! All these people are models- they make their living based on their appearance- and none of these files have a single picture."

"Strange." He agreed, trying to refocus on the task at hand. "Got a written description. Why write it, when a picture'd show it?"

"So that when the police come poking around asking if you've got a blue eyed blonde girl of medium height working for you, you pull out tons of files, and there's no picture to tie it up conclusively. They probably have tons of people who match given descriptions. It would make it harder for the police to investigate disappearances."

"They must have pictures someplace though, Buffy, this is a modeling agency. At the very least, any work they did would be photographed."

"Not if they never sign a contract for that particular that work wouldn't be associated with them. If these kids weren't well known, you probably wouldn't know where to look to see their photos. I don't see any signed contracts, I don't see a single pay stub or anything related to the money side of it."

"We should go." Spike suddenly rose, shoved the papers back in the drawer and seized her wrist.

"What? Why? Is someone coming?"

"No. But- this sounds like a cash only operation. And I have a bad feelin', okay? Let's jus' go."

"No! We have to find out more than that. So they only pay cash, maybe they're cheating on their taxes. I'm not the IRS, I'm the VS."

"The what?" Spike stopped walking and she bumped into him.

"The vampire slayer." She put her hands on her hips and stood her ground.

"Look, all I'm sayin' is that a place that pays people in cash, to pose, and keeps no records of the work they did, not even a single photo of the person they hired..." He trailed off.

"Is shady?" She shrugged.

"Is porn. Or evil. But I'm bankin' on porn right now." He closed his eyes. Why must she be so naive at times?

"It isn't! Giles told me lots of big name companies use this place."

"Lots of big name companies use Melissa Modeling in a backwater town like Cliffside?" He scoffed in sarcastic disbelief.

"We at least have to look and see if we can find some business records. If I find anything indicating- that thing you said- we'll leave and find a new way to work on this."

They began walking again, creeping into each room, finding some set up as stages, some set up as storage rooms, some as dressing rooms or wardrobe areas, a lunchroom, a bathroom- no business office. "Let's go upstairs." She waited for Spike to make some kinds of innuendo, but he didn't. He seemed grimly focused.

"Right. Me first." Spike led her up the dark hallway and the stairs, holding her hand and leading her. "I'm changin' my mind about the naughty nature of the place. Think I'd have seen a bed in one of these rooms by now."

"I don't see why you'd care anyway. Wasn't it you who told me that I'd better get used to the idea of walking around in my 'scanties' if it meant saving lives?"

Spike was silent. What could he say? Makes me sick to think of anyone but me touching you, or even looking at you? And get kicked square in the heart she said he wasn't able to use. "Wouldn't want you to do that." He answered gruffly and pulled away from her, striding hurriedly down the second story hallway.

"Yeah. Me either." She shivered. He snorted with a sudden laugh. "What? That amuses you?"

"No, Pet, not at all. But I can just see us tellin' the Watcher that he sent you along to a glorified knocking shop."

"That's be so mean!" She bit her lip to keep the laugh in. It didn't work. "Ooh! We should tell him we got cast in the same movie, and leave it at that."

"What, you want to kill the old man?" Spike laughed in spite of himself.

"Looks who's calling him an old man." She scoffed.

"Shut up and open doors, Miss Priss." He ordered.

They searched the ground floor and second floor thoroughly, but were unable to get to the third floor. "Why is the third story blocked off with doors?" Buffy pondered.

"Not so much worried about the doors, Luv, it's the alarm panel next to it." Spike pointed. "I can rip it off, or punch it through, but I don't know if it'll still send a distress call to the police or wherever it's rigged to."

"We don't have time. We have to get down there and look like we're waiting in line, blend in once the room gets crowded."

"I hope there's a crowd. I can't see anyone coming here to start a career." Spike blew smoke through his nose and Buffy yelped. "What?"

"Put that out! Put that away! Smoking? Why are you smoking, are you stupid?" She waved the air around them frantically. He took another long drag and was about to stub it out on the floor. "No! God, you can't leave any clues that someone's been in here."

"I got it, Luv." He sighed, pinching the glowing end with moistened finger tips and tucking it back in his duster. "I'll flush it in the loo as soon as we go back downstairs. Think I'll wait in there until I hear enough voices outside to act as camouflage and then slip into the crowd. If there _is_ a crowd."

"Don't forget what we found. All those jobs sounded amazing. I bet everyone in the modeling business comes here to get one time jobs and hopes to get discovered. They really do have a ton of big names sending them free lance work. Victoria Secret not among them." She gave him a gamine grin. In one of the rooms they had found a more appropriate looking business office, with locked file drawers and computers, something that looked like it was in use, as opposed to the shambles of model files they had seen downstairs. Brand name companies, companies she couldn't afford to buy from in a million years, had sent requests. A stack of about 20 such requests were left on the desk, with a stapled note reading "For open call."

Spike returned her grin, the darkness and secretive nature of their actions temporarily blurring the hold he was keeping on his romantic thoughts. Plus the fact that she was standing near him, so near him, as they furtively checked the hallway before moving out. "No, you're right. Although I wouldn't mind seeing you in that Ralph Lauren advert. Bet you look beautiful wet, Buffy."

Her breath caught and she looked up at him. He looked at her with such heat, it always shocked her- and made a trickle of feeling come back to her. And that was bad. Don't get comfy in this world. And don't get cozy with him, a soulless vampire, either. "Let's go." She muttered and squeezed past him, leaving him biting his lip in longing from even a slight contact.

It seemed like they spent hours hiding, not together, he in the men's room, she in the women's, but in reality she knew at most it was 45 minutes. A trickle of voices, voices moving around at ease, tipped her off that the regular staff had arrived. Shouts of "Who forgot to plug in the coffee maker last night?" and "Diane! You're parked in Rob's spot!" gave Buffy the distinct impression that she was wasting her time. Everything was completely human sounding, and not single Slayer tingly surfaced.

Spike heard the upswing of voices long before she did, with his predatory sensory abilities. Dozens of voices. Young. Female mostly. And dozens of scents, not all of them pleasant, but all of them human. His stomach clenched once. Stupid chip. Ruinin' the beautiful buffet out there. He casually pushed open the door of the stall he had been in, nodded easily to a young man coming in the swinging door, and sauntered into the lobby where a fair sized number of people were standing in long lines, registering for today's session. Buffy's head poked around the corner of the hall and she emerged. Spike grinned. She'd used the time in the restroom to her advantage. Flawless make up and long blonde locks almost winking in the glow of the florescent overhead lights, shorter skirt than usual and clingy white top. He gave her a nonchalant nod and she came and stood behind him in line.

"Patch of sunlight in the center." She whispered, not looking at him.

"Saw it. Long as they don't tell us to get out of line and wait in the middle of the lobby, I'll be fine." He cast a quick glance at the single metal door at the front of the agency, with its solitary plane of glass. Wasn't it odd that a big building like this didn't have double doors, or at least something fancier in the way of an entrance?

"Weird." She muttered. And he nodded. They both had the same idea.

The line moved slowly. Everyone had to fill out paperwork, the long descriptive forms they had seen in the first office. "You're going to get in." Buffy hissed softly.

"That handsome, am I?" He grinned at her wolfishly.

"Puh-lease." She rolled her eyes. "I'm talking statistically. There must be forty girls here, and only a half dozen men. They need guys, almost all of those job requests were for male and female pairs. Is that odd?"

"I dunno, Pet. Maybe it's just a fashion trend, but I'm not up on that."

"No kidding, Mr. Idol."

"Shut it. Still pissed at that lout." Spike crossed his arms and looked around. Hmm. Some assortment of lovelies. Tall, short, thin, curvy, something for everyone, every- taste. He licked his lips and his stomach clenched again.

"I saw that." Her voice was accusing.

"I'm hungry, alright? Jus' cause I'm hungry doesn't mean I'd ever hurt one of these people. Even if I could." He hissed as she opened her mouth. "Even if you say I can't change, I have, an' I might want plenty of things that I have no intention of takin'. Even if you don't care what I do, Bit does. An' believe what you want about my inability to _love_," he paused his voice heavy with scorn, "but I do love your little sis."

"She says she loves _you_." Buffy admitted wearily. "She doesn't understand."

"Well, one of you doesn't, that's for damn sure." Spike turned his back on her, and wouldn't say another word, although they stood together at the end of the line for another 20 minutes.

Spike was first, and Buffy strained her ears to hear what questions the woman at the registration table asked. "Are you over 18?" was the first thing out of her mouth.

"Yeah, I'm-"

"I don't need to know your age, just if you're over 18." The lady sounded thoroughly bored. She rattled off a list of questions, a lot of things she could obviously see for herself. "Experience? Height? Hair color? Eye color? Skin color? Skin tone? Name? No, you don't need to sign anything at this time. Thank you. Sit over there."

Buffy received the same treatment. "Shouldn't there be more to it than that?" Buffy asked Spike as she sat, who merely shrugged. There was more to it than that, as they quickly found out. Three harassed looking men and one harried looking woman came out, took the papers, and retreated down the hallway. Soon another young woman came out from that general direction and began calling names, four or five at a time, and led them away. Some came back out, and left through the lobby door, others, much happier looking others, retook their seats and waited.

"I'm gonna go get a soda from the machine." Buffy finally muttered, tired of sitting and feeling bored beyond belief. "You want anything?"

"Whatever you're having." Spike replied cooly.

"You were so much easier to talk to before you developed a crush on me." She hissed.

"I know." He laughed, meeting her eyes for the first time in hours. "An' you're way less uptight since you took a dirt nap, Luv." He got up and walked to the vending machine with her.

"I talk to you more easily, but everyone else-" her shoulders rose and fell, wordlessly finishing her thought.

"I talk to you more easily. I know where I stand with you."

"You do?" Buffy was surprised. "How can you, when I don't even know?"

"I know that you like me an' you hate me, an' you liked when we kissed, an' you hate that you felt somethin'. I know that I am standin' squarely in the middle of a minefield with you, Summers."

"That is true. The minefield part, I mean." She clarified with a nervous glance at him. "Not the kissing." He quirked his eyebrow at her and she blushed.

"See? You're unpredictable. I say somethin' sweet an' I don't know if I'm about to get a stake in my heart or a broken nose, or just a little smile." He grinned broadly.

"You don't mind that?"

"I like a challenge." He opened the first soda for her, then took the closed one she was fishing from the machine and opened it for himself. "I care about you, Buffy."

"I know." She whispered, and let herself stand closer to him, and they walked, shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching, back to their seats.

"The nervous foursome are back." Spike nodded as the three men and one woman returned, with much smaller stacks of paper.

"If you're still here, it means we want you for our first round. We have over twenty jobs to fill, and we have a deadline." The woman spoke up. "Not all of you are going to make it, but based on your profiles, you look like good candidates."

One of the men stepped forward. "I'm Art. I'm the head photographer. This is Lee, Jane, and Patrick." he introduced his colleagues. "Before we get started- we'd like to ask if any of you worked together before? We've had a few flighty types lately. People who've left abruptly because they can't hack posing in intimate positions with strangers. Not too intimate of course, nothing showing, but some articles of clothing missing"

"Told you so." Spike breathed in her ear. Buffy looked absolutely sick with worry, not listening to Art as he continued his brief rant about how models are artists for the camera and the body is their medium, etc. "You don't have to say we worked together before- but you wanna work with someone else?"

"Someone else is better than you." She hissed back waspishly.

"We don't know who is doing this, Buffy. Could be anyone of them. You want someone else's hands all over you, or someone you know can't hurt you?" She didn't answer, her frown deepening.

Maybe it'd be better with a stranger. Someone who I won't feel anything with, she mused. But yet she and Spike, as well as three other girls, raised their hands when Art asked for a showing of those who had worked together.

"You and she have worked together?" Art addressed Spike, appraising him like a buyer looking at a new sculpture for his collection.

"Yes." Spike gestured firmly to Buffy. "Just her."

There was a muttered conversation amongst the four photographers. "Mr. Williams?"

"Yeah, that's me." Spike smiled.

"We definitely want to use you, but we'd rather pair you with a brunette, better contrast."

Spike didn't show any emotion as he gave a brief nod, but he could feel Buffy tense. "You're Miss-?" Art turned to her.

"Summers. Ann." Buffy said in a raspy voice, then coughed and repeated her name more clearly.

"You're still in our preliminary picks. Let's get moving people, listen for your name and go where you're called."

Spike and Buffy were in the same group, the one with Art. They headed to one of the larger sets upstairs, and all of them were told to sit along the floor while they tried some poses and blocked shots to see which people would remain and which would leave. "All this lot? Human." Spike whispered as they took a seat in the corner.

"Yeah, I know. But-"

"But I got the ancient evil vibe the closer I get to the top floor. Still smells like a human though."

"Can there be ancient, evil humans? That give off the 'not human' tingly?"

"Ask Watcher boy tonight." Spike muttered. "I'm sorry about downstairs."

"What? Sorry that you don't get to feel me up?" Buffy laughed mockingly. "It's okay with me, believe me."

"What's wrong with you, Pet?" Spike hissed. "I would die for you, I love you- or at least in your vocabulary, I care for you. And you'd rather have anyone else-"

"I don't want anyone to touch me. Ever. I don't want- touching." She hissed, the fear back on her face, haunted eyes seeking his. "It hurts."

"Touching hurts?" He looked taken aback. If he'd known it hurt her, he'd never have kissed her. Why hadn't his chip fired? Maybe because she'd wanted it- just for that second.

"Too raw. Everything. Too raw and too hard, and just- I don't want it." She put her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry- if I hurt you- the other night." He reached out his hand and drew it back immediately. She just said it hurts to touch, idiot!

"Not that kind of hurt." She looked miffed. "Dummy." He slowly nodded as he processed her words. "I don't want anyone to touch me, make me feel, make me hurt."

"Make you come alive again?"

"Yeah. That." She gave him bittersweet smile. "But if it does have to be someone posing with me, I guess I'd rather it be you that some guy I don't know. At least I know you can't hurt me."

"I won't let anyone hurt you." He reminded her. "I know you won't accept my love, but accept that I'm trying to keep you safe, alright?"

"Alright. Not that I need it." She tossed on, just to infuriate him.

"Let's have Spike and Lisa, up here." Spike waved at her as he stood and she mouthed "good luck". He looked at who his partner would be.

Built along the lines of Drusilla. Long raven hair and a come hither smile. He gave her one back, curling his tongue around his teeth as he grinned invitingly.

"Lisa, in front, Spike, let's try your arm around her waist, and-" Art posed them, draping them around each other affectionately, but chastely.

Buffy was looking. Looking at him possessively. Spike gave her a wink. and she looked away, annoyed. Jealous, Pet? He seemed to telegraph from his mind to hers, and pulled the lovely Lisa closer to him, brushing his hands seductively across her arms and his lips across her ear.

She giggled. The stupid bint flushed, giggled and broke the pose. Spike turned serious, stood just like he had been told, no additional moves and he forced his natural predatory charm to remain switched off. To no avail. She giggled again, and squirmed, come hither eyes extending their invitation loudly.

"No! We need someone who can act aloof! Confident, unimpressed, an actualized woman." Art clutched his head and looked around the roomful of women. All of them looked completely moon eyed over the bleached blonde in his tight black ensemble. Except for one. Spike shoved Lisa away roughly and pointed to Buffy.

"Talk to Ann, Art."

"Me?" Buffy rose and regarded Spike cooly. "I don't know about actualized or aloof. I'm totally not impressed with Captain Peroxide, though."

"And I don't much fancy cuddlin' Princess Petite, but we've worked together for quite some time."

"No. No, you two sound like you fight. I don't need fighting couples, I don't need prima donnas, and I don't giggling little school girls." Art glared around the room.

"We're civil." Spike and Buffy said as one, eyes locking. Get the job done.

Art sighed. "Get up here." Buffy trotted up and let him pose her, holding herself stiffly until she received the photographer's glare. "I said aloof, not allergic! Put your body against his and relax!"

God, that sounded so sexual, the pair thought. Spike smelled her arousal come in one sticky rush and wondered if she could feel him "waking up" inside his black denim. If it were only that easy, he thought, resting his hands on her waist gently. Buffy relax, put your body against me, put your body around me, God, he was going to have to excuse himself in a second. "Rest on me, Luv." He breathed, so soft only her sharp ears could hear him. And she did, limply, lolling against him, still in their pose.

"That's much better. But hardly aloof." Art circled them. "You two do have nice chemistry though. Very nice. Let's try a reclining shot." Spike slowly let her go and lay down on the flat wooden bench that dominated the hard wood stage. "And Ann, you on top of him, you back to his chest. Spike, hands on her rib cage- higher- higher- there. Yes, just so. Ann, look at me. Spike, look at Ann. No, stay flat, look at her without turning your head." Art circled and clicked a few shots. "I like it. I think it'll work." He scribbled a note and pressed it into Spike's hand. "Go to the main desk and give this to Marianne. She'll get you set up for the jeans ad."

Buffy and Spike tried to walk nonchalantly from the room, nodding and waving to those remaining inside. "There." Buffy sighed deeply. "That was easy, right?"

"Right. Now all we have to do is shoot this photo, get to the third floor, find the bad, kill it, and leave before they realize I don't show up on the bleedin' film.

"It's digital. You'll show up, it isn't mirror based technology. Willow told me." Buffy silenced him, and his disbelieving look. "How much do we get paid? I hope it's something good. I have to pay the utilities and the car insurance this month."

Spike swallowed his offer. He'd gladly find a way to pay all her bills, take care of her and Dawn, if she'd only let him. "We've got to give this to Marianne." He addressed a woman at the main desk instead of Buffy.

"O-kayyy." The woman took the note and slowly read it as she dragged out the word. "Congratulations! You two are hired for one shoot. And if Melissa likes your work, you could certainly get more. Hang on and I'll buzz Rob, he'll take you to the third floor and get you made up and dressed for the shoot, then Art or Patrick will come up for the actual photographs. Make sure you stop back by here at the end of the day to get your pay."

"We get paid? Today?" Buffy cried. The woman, who she presumed must be Marianne, winked but didn't say anything else. "Rob." She spoke into an intercom.

"Yeah?"

"Two more. CK jeans shoot."

"Send 'em up."

"Go on up." Marianne nodded and pointed to the third floor.

Rob turned out to be almost as short as Buffy, and twice as energetic. And he giggled. He also pawed over both of them, which neither of them tolerated well. As soon as the make up was done, which Spike heartily objected to (and which had to be done by a third party as there wasn't a mirror in the room), Rob left them to get dressed. "Can he please be the demon?" Spike asked. "Wanna rip his fluttery little hands off. And that vibe is definitely stronger up here. But mainly- just wanna hurt that little wanker."

"I know! If he called me 'babycakes' once more I was going to revisit my hardline stand on staking humans." Spike laughed with her and turned around to look through their pile of clothes.

"This is my outfit? Where are the shoes?" Spike held up a large pair of loose fitting dark blue jeans.

"I guess we're barefoot, I don't have shoes either." Buffy looked through her pile. "This isn't right."

'What's that?" Spike pulled off his shirt, careful not to get foundation on his collar.

"I don't have a shirt. I have jeans and a towel."

"Maybe the towel is the shirt? Maybe it's a gettin' ready to get dressed type of pose. I don't have a shirt either."

"Maybe." Buffy was now bright pink and discomfort radiated off her in waves so strong he could feel them. "Or maybe neither of us have tops."

"Don't get shy now, Slayer. Where's the girl with the brass balls who shoved her unmentionables right in my face?" He tried to boil up a different emotion, anger, or outrage, or even shared humor.

"Spike! I didn't_ shove_ anything anywhere!" She protested angrily. He laughed and stepped behind a rack of clothes. "What are you doing?"

"Puttin' my soddin' pants on, unless you want me to do it out there in front of you?"

"Gah! No!" Buffy turned away, even though she couldn't see anything. "I'm going back there next. And you- you keep your back turned or I'll be getting very stake-happy."

"No problem. Not like I haven't seen the top half of your top half before." He grinned wickedly as he tugged up the jeans. "These things are made for blokes along the lines of your initiative chappies. Not built light and sporty like me."

"Some of us like the big luxury editions." Buffy goaded, trading places with him once he emerged.

"It's all about what's under the hood, Luv." He whispered in her ear as they passed each other. She shivered as his words painted a picture in her mind, hinting about what he was concealing, making her want to see for herself.

"Knock knock!" Rob popped back in, even as he said the words.

"Isn't there supposed to be a pause between 'knock knock' and coming in?" Buffy demanded, hastily pulling her pants up and holding them on.

"We're so used to it around here, Babycakes, no one even knocks before going into the john!" He gave a high pitched laugh. "Ohh, and look at the two of you. They always send them so big, don't they? I have no idea why, like we'd use fat models!" Another laugh. "Let's get you pinned up. Art will be up in about 15. Ann, take off your shirt, I'm going to do your body makeup as soon as Spike's pants are a little tighter."

"Oi! Watch the goods, mate." Spike tugged the pants a bit looser. "I'm thinkin' the baggy relaxed look is good, y'get me?" He threatened. Rob backed up hastily.

"My shirt?" Buffy's mouth dried out.

"And bra." Spike and Buffy exchanged wide eyes glances and Rob laughed at them. "Not used to the topless look? Well, don't worry. It's all smoke and mirrors, Babycakes."

"So she's not really topless?" Spike tried to sound positive. He didn't want her to do something she didn't want to do, but if there was a god who took pity on vamps, he would have been praying for a chance to see or hold those hot little mounds for just five seconds.

"Oh no, she is, but the camera won't see anything compromising." Rob began dusting Spike all over with white body powder. "She'll have the towel on until you put your hands underneath, cover her breasts, then she'll toss the towel away. It's all torso, imagination, and insinuation. It'll look amazing, trust me!" Rob turned a critical eye over Spike and nodded. "You're done."

"Uh, I'll go have a smoke then?" Spike looked to Buffy for confirmation. She shook her head slightly. She wanted him to stay in the room. He didn't know whether he should be flattered he was getting this show of trust, or unnerved that the Slayer didn't want to be left alone with a prancin' little bit of a human bloke who was hardly even her height. "No- never mind. Don't want to walk around in these soddin' trousers." He turned back to the clothes rack and pretended to be very interested in what was on it, all the time having his ears on hyper sensitive.

"You fold the towel up, then over, then in to the middle." Rob was instructing pleasantly. "I never need to see your A cups, honey, since the camera won't be seeing them either." Another braying laugh and then a sudden gasp.

"Oh! Sorry, Rob, so sorry!." Spike half turned his head, in time to see Buffy tucking her elbow back to her side and Rob rubbing his temple.

"No problem." He laughed easily, but kept his comments to himself, and started to fold back the towel, lifting it from her waist up, so he could apply a golden shade of powder to her flawless skin. In about five minutes they were done, and Rob pointed them to a door they had both assumed was a closet. "Shoot goes on in there. You can sit on the table, but don't muss the drape sheet."

As soon as he as gone, Buffy let out a vicious kick at the closing door. "They're B cups, aren't they, Luv? Don't worry about him. Don't think he spends much time studyin' beautiful girls."

"Idiot." She muttered. Then looked at him conspiratorially. "Did you see that though? With the elbow?"

"Smooth, Pet." He patted her back without thinking, and immediately wished he hadn't. Anytime he felt her, he acted just like William. Speaking with his heart, and bound to get staked in it eventually. "You're like silk, Buffy. Bleedin' soft, hot, silk."

She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't..."

"No. I won't." He hoisted himself up on the table, nearly losing his loosely pinned jeans. "I- um- I can try not to- y'know. Really touch them."

"That'd be good." She nodded. "Although..."

"Yes?" He asked, too quickly.

"If you don't touch them, then won't the camera see under your hands?"

"Probably. I don't know. We could practice?" He smirked suddenly and she smacked his arm. "Ow! Mess up my makeup, Slayer."

"Try not to think pervy thoughts, when we're doing this, okay?"

"I'll lie back an' think of England."

"Huh?"

"Well, you see, in- oh never mind. Ask Rupert about it." Spike suddenly cocked his head. "Footsteps. Probably the camera man. Don't be nervous. You're beautiful." He timed the last words to coincide with the doorknob beginning to turn, so she wouldn't have time to dwell on it, or argue with him over it.

"You two look good." Art smiled as he entered. "You ready? Relaxed?"

"Yeah." Both of them lied.

"Okay, good. Now, here's how we see it. This is an ad that needs to say "These jeans are for comfortable, confident people. Lovers, living life. Women who have power-" Buffy chuckled and Spike elbowed her. "Women who have handsome men falling for them. And men who attract the most beautiful, the most assured. So you need to give the camera that attitude. You're relaxed, you're sexy, you can have any man or woman you want- and you're pleased with the one you have. But not too pleased. No soppy, lovesick grins."

"So not a problem." Buffy smiled and Spike looked heavenwards innocently.

"Let's try a couple poses standing up-" Art arranged them, as best he could while Buffy clung to her towel. "Spike, lean forward, wrap your hands around her, then Ann put your arms back and up over his neck. With both hands."

Spike moved slowly. He was going to die from this, might as well enjoy it. He only hoped Buffy would know he wasn't drawing it out for his sake, he was merely trying not to move too quickly and activate his chip or cause her pain. He rested his fingertips on the far side of each breast, and kept his palm off her skin as much as he could.

He was going to kill her, moving so slowly, almost a tickle, a tickle up her sides that somehow activated a tickle lower down. He had a chest to die for, smooth and lukewarm, not hot and smothering like some others she tried not think of. She kept her eyes straight ahead, didn't want to show how much his touch, even though it was light and unhurried, affected her. "Think I'm covered." She breathed.

"Right then." He replied, and she carefully dropped the towel.

"Beautiful contrast!" Art said. "Forget the hair color, the skin tone is beautiful, milk and washed copper!" Art loved his work, he loved photographing the people God had made look best, the young, the beauteous. And his enthusiasm was inspiring- and distracting.

It's like training, Buffy told herself. Listen to the voice and complete the maneuvers it assigns. Right arms back more, cross over, grab his left shoulder, lean back, arch up, face him, press your chest to his, put your hands in his pockets. A long litany of directives she followed , not even realizing what positions Art was moving her into until it was too late.

She's against me. Really against me. Spike took two deep breaths and didn't look down to see the two ripe hills of gold smashed gently to his ivory pecs. He could feel them, but he tried not to. It was impossible not to, but he was trying, did that count in her world? Never had before. Sorry, his eyes winced at her, and his thumb traced a comforting repetitive stroke on her back.

He could look down and see me, push me back for a second and see it all. And he isn't doing that. Yeah, 'cause he knows you'd kill him as soon as possible. He can feel me, he can feel that my nipples are hard and probably smell that I'm all wet for him- and his eyes say sorry. I don't think- that this is how he wants it to be. She shook her head with a frown, trying to reconcile a thought that just clicked in her brain. I think Spike doesn't like this anymore than I do.

"Good, lay down!" Art finished a volley of clicks and flashes. Spike held her to him after Art gave the direction, and Buffy tensed, tried to pull away. He tugged her gently, bending together, so he could retrieve her towel.

"Just- here." He gave up on trying to explain. It wasn't going to help in the long run.

"Thanks." She murmured, eyes touching his own before darting away again.

"Spike, lie on your back, Buffy on top. Get situated-" Art gestured to the towel, and Spike pressed his hands into covering position as he had before. "Hmm." Art circled, propping up legs, straightening arms and heads. "Cup her harder, pull them up more, Spike, and then don't move, either of you. The lights in this place..." He wandered around for a moment, dragging two large lighting umbrellas and spotlights into place. "Spike! Push her boobs up more, cup them harder." Art ordered before returning to focus on the umbrellas, muttering about the lack of natural light.

Buffy didn't feel his hands move at all. "What's the matter?"

"Chip is bound to fire." He whispered.

"What? Why?"

"I'm not tryin' to cause pain, but he keeps tossin' around words like harder an' push an' pull... chip is bound to fire."

"Oh." Buffy bit her lip. Let it fire, serve him right, said part of her and that part was mercifully stomped out. "Does it fire if someone else does it for you?"

"I dunno, Pet. No one had ever tried. Guess it depends on how violently they did it."

"Let me try, I'll try not to trigger it." She took a wincing breath, unable to believe the circumstances she was being forced into, when only a few months ago she was enjoying eternal bliss. She put her hands over his hand quickly, before Art gave them his undivided attention again, and squeezed Spike's fingers around her breasts, pushing them up more, as instructed.

"Buffy." He breathed, unable to help it. "God, Buffy, you're perfect. Beautiful and perfect."

"Shh." She commanded, biting her lip. I will not feel this. I will not. This is means to an end. I can let Spike touch me, if it means we can get out of here faster.

Shunned again. I won't learn, I will not soddin' learn. And neither will my bits. His erection started to grow the minute she pressed into his hands more firmly. He could feel the small pebbles under his palms, the soft, slight crinkles of tissue around the peaks. And every texture was calling out to to be explored. But here he lie, perfectly still except for the lungs that would not understand he didn't need air any longer and kept pulling in mouthful after mouthful as he tried to calm his body. A body that had ached for her touch, and had grieved for her absence, and now was holding her close- purely for business. He understood Buffy's attitude much better this late afternoon than he had in many days. This world wasn't hell, but part of the everyday living seemed to be imitatin' it.

Art snapped away once the lighting was adjusted to perfection. "Look straight at me, Ann. Big green eyes, Ann, yes, you are gorgeous! No, don't look at him, he's looking at you. Spike- look self-satisfied, look at this pretty girl you've snagged!"

Self-satisfied should be easy for Spike to pull off, Buffy thought bitterly. And I bet he is, bet this will be all over every vamp nest and demon slime pit in Sunnydale the day we get back._ Look at the big bad, chipped and all, he still has photos of him and the Slayer, topless. _

He couldn't arrange his face into anything but this kind of half sad, half pleased look of love and wonder. She'll never love me. Hurts so bad to know, and yet maybe, just for another five minutes, I can pretend this is something she wants, just like I do...

Buffy stole a look at him, and saw no satisfaction. A wistfulness, and awe, and nothing more. She swallowed, didn't let their eyes connect, and redirected her gaze to the camera.

"Self-satisfied, not soft. Look at her face, she's cool and collected. These jeans snare the hotties, that's the attitude CK wants to see!"

"Quiet down, Arthur, and take the picture." A woman, about 40, svelte and cat-like with flowing chestnut hair, entered the room. Buffy and Spike were so lost in an ocean of emotions that neither noticed until they heard the voice.

"Mel- no, see his face, it's-"

"It's perfect. Lower your lids a little- whatever your name is, sir."

Spike dutifully closed his eyes almost all the way, still looking at Buffy. And Buffy still stared, bright eyed and dead ahead into the lens.

"CK will love it. Not only do these jeans get you the man- they get you the man who adores you."

"You're the boss, Melissa." Art sighed, moved Buffy's arm up slightly, pressed a hand to the small of her back to arch it higher, and told Spike to smile just a touch more.

"Very nice. Very nice indeed." Melissa twirled the strand of pearls that nestled in the V of her black dress. "Tell them to come back tomorrow. I like them. They have good chemistry." With a dismissive wave, she traipsed back out. Spike and Buffy exchanged a look as she left. It plainly said, "I've got the weird vibe- do you?"

"I think we're good. We'll send the whole shoot to CK and they can pick." Art scratched his salt and pepper locks ad he began rearranging the equipment. "Melissa- that's the head of Melissa Modeling, she liked you both, so we'll have you back tomorrow. I don't know what kind of shoots we have left, it's been a busy day and I haven't gotten to go over the list. But based on what she said, I figure she'll want you together, she liked the way you two interact."

"Stay there a mo'." Spike helped Buffy off of him, crossing her arms in front of her protectively. He retrieved the towel again and she gave him a brief appreciative smile. "We come in at 7:30 again?"

"Come in when you like, we're here until late. You just have to arrange it with Marianne when you pick up your check. Figure you need about three hours for each shoot, though. It doesn't usually take that long, but it can. She'll tell you if the time you want is free or not. Do you both work?"

"Uh- we have classes." Buffy answered quickly. "In the morning. And in the afternoon. Late afternoon and evenings are best for us."

"You two a couple, then?" Arthur smiled knowingly.

"NO!" They both proclaimed quickly.

"Good friends." Spike replied, not looking at her, as Buffy answered,

"We've been working together- in our classes- for a couple years."

"Okay, well, get some rest. See you at some point tomorrow." Art ushered them out, back to the room they had dressed in. As the exited, a statuesque red head in a flowing white dress traded places with them, and they heard Arthur begin his instructions and admirations all over again, and calling for Rob to help him move in the "garden scenery".

They turned away from each other to dress, but no longer stepped behind the clothing rack. Neither one of them spoke, and the awkward silence seemed to hang over them like a veil.

"You were brilliant, Luv." Spike offered finally.

"You, too." She replied, eyes darting to him, and away, catching sight of his slim fingers pulling the zipper of his jeans up. She snapped her bra closed and trembled as she pulled the straps over her shoulders. Her chest felt sore, not from any roughness, simply from being held by someone, just held, and yet oddly not "touched". A dull ache that was starting to spread to the rest of her body. "I'm gonna take a long hot shower when we get back to the hotel."

He tried not to associate the fact that she wanted to bathe as soon as possible with what they'd done. She just wanted to relax. More likely she wanted to wash him off her skin. Well, that was her right. He nodded and spoke easily. "Yeah, you do that. I'm gonna stop and get somethin' for supper first, okay?"

"Fine." She nodded. "That woman who came in at the end..."

"Shh. Not here." He cautioned and she nodded again.

They walked slowly downstairs, not speaking, not touching, careful not to invade each other's space, an overcompensation for the forced intimacy of earlier. "Hey." Spike placed his hand flat on the counter in the lobby with a slap. Marianne looked up with a startled gasp. "We got asked back, Ducks, so what's the drill?"

"You as a couple?"

"The two of us, yes." Buffy stated in a tone that dared anyone else to refer to them as a "couple".

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"No. We know we're asked back, and we need about three hours per shoot. That's all they said." Buffy replied, tightening her hands on her bag, running out of patience and energy.

"And we'd like to come in the evening. We have class in the day." Spike lied convincingly, turning on his considerable charm. "And we'd like to be paid."

"I'll get your money. And it looks like we can put you in at four." Spike and Buffy exchanged a quick glance.

"Light should be low enough." Spike hissed as Marianne turned to a cash box behind her.

"Four should be fine." Buffy smiled with forced cheerfulness.

"You were the CK jeans shoot?"

"That's right, Hen." Spike tapped his silver ringed fingers impatiently along the edge of the counter.

"Here you go." Marianne handed each of them a thick, sealed envelope. "We'll see you tomorrow at four."

The sun was just beginning to sink as they exited the building. "Gonna have to stay in the shadows, Luv. Can't take the bike yet, not out in the middle of the street."

"We'll walk." She gave him a small smile, holding her envelope as she walked with him alongside the walls of buildings. "This feels thick. Hope it isn't full of ones, not after all- hm." She stopped with an apologetic cough.

"I hope so- bloody hell, Slayer!" Spike tore open his envelope and shook it in front of her face. "It's in twenties! This is enough for blood and smokes for a month."

"Me, too! Me, too!" Her voice reached that excited squeal that reminded him painfully of how she had been before. She just wanted to be normal. She wanted to wear pretty clothes and go to college, and have a boyfriend who could take her on picnics and out for drives. Giggly, smiling, squealing with her friends, vicious, darkly humorous, determined with her enemies. And now he was stuck firmly in the middle.

"Happy for you, Luv." He gasped when she smacked into him in a fast hug. "Whoa, let's not forget what we're doin'." He cautioned, awkwardly patting her back instead of giving her the tight hug he desired.

"You helped me get this! I mean, the whole killing the big evil is what I do, but I got money! Oh God. I got money for taking my clothes off. With a man. My God. I'm a slut!" Her face went from overjoyed to disgusted and horrified.

"Buffy, Luv, you- you are not that. And the clothes off- well, it's all a point of view, init? Some countries are big believers in as little clothing as possible. In Europe, topless isn't even considered nudity, it's - Sunday night telly viewing. Perfectly acceptable."

"What if- what if someone sees it? I was thinking we'd get picked for a little no-name ad, but that was a national brand!"

Spike stopped walking. "Ashamed to be seen with me?"

"Ashamed to be seen at all, but yeah, that, too!"

"I'll nick 'em back when we deal with Mrs. Evil." Spike sighed, stopping along the back of a barber shop, lighting a smoke and taking a calming breath of nicotine.

"But what if they-"

"Buffy, Luv-" Spike froze her with a half-lidded glare. "Stop talkin' to me. I am tired of talkin' to you, tryin' to figure you out. Just shut-" He leaned close to her, menacingly close, "your mouth."

They took a few steps in silence. Buffy's face went from hurt and shocked, to sad and confused, to angry. "No!" She suddenly reached out and punched him hard in the arm. "No! I'm gonna talk if I want to! Everyone thinks I'm just supposed to deal, but then they keep asking me to do new things, all the time, and I'm supposed to act how I always used to act? No! And you- you might be there for me, but you're still expecting things from me, too! New things, and you think you're making it better- mmf!"

Spike grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and forced his mouth on hers, crushing her head back into the brick, but shielding her skull with his hands. Her head twisted, grinding his knuckles into the wall and tearing the skin, but she didn't turn away. His head remained mercifully migraine-free, and he relaxed, for a half a minute, and took solace in her warmth, and their silence. Her hands finally reached up, fastened on his upper arms. He pulled back, bright blue eyes at a gloss from emotions unspoken and unshed, and mouth heaving to pull air back into a throat that didn't breath. "Please. Buffy. Stop talking. Just for a bit?"

She clenched her fists, arm twitching back to land a blow. And he didn't even move. He's tired, too. The realization dimly made itself known, and she dropped her arm, relaxed her hand. "Okay. Until we get something to eat."

They went to the butcher's first, then Spike asked if there were any nicer hotels than the one they were staying at. The butcher gave them the names of several. Spike paid, and walked out. They passed a deli and Spike followed Buffy in, watched wordlessly as she ordered and paid for two sandwiches and two cokes. Girl was hungry. Slayer strength, needs a lot of upkeep, Spike smiled softly when she wasn't looking.

The sun was just a slit of orange now and Spike sighed in relief. "I'll go get the bike."

"I'll come with." She said tonelessly. She pushed a sandwich into his hand as they walked.

"What's this?"

"Ham and cheese with tomato and lettuce." She unwrapped her own and took a bite.

He could act all shocked and touched, which he was, or he could eat the soddin' sandwich and not make a big deal. "Ta, Pet." She nodded, mouth full, eyes far away, following the sunset, as if she could ride it out of there and find her escape again. "So- here's what I thought then." Spike cleared his throat. "We can either stay in Ye Old Condemned By the Board of Health and get two rooms, or we can go up to the nice, clean place with a fridge and a micro, and have one room. I'm payin, but I want to make it last."

"I bet the nice place has a phone _in_ the room." Buffy swallowed and spoke.

"Most likely. Need to talk to the Watcher. Get a long distance research session goin'."

"I bet the bed doesn't raise dust either."

"Not unless we-" He stopped abruptly. "No, it wouldn't be the monument to bad housekeepin' that our current home from home is."

"Let's get our stuff then." Buffy sighed. I can pay for a separate room, nagged the independent and self-righteous voice in her head. And where does the rest of the money come from? What are you going to do to support Dawn? Save what you can from this job, because it might be awhile before any more money comes in.

You just want him near you. Just like his song said. You know you've got a willing slave and you might misbehave. This isn't about money. It's about taking advantage of the fact that someone loves you. Or cares. Whatever, and will do anything you tell him to. "Shut up!" Buffy snapped aloud.

"I wasn't even talkin' that time!" Spike protested.

"Not you." She muttered, looking away again. "You must think I'm a mess."

Yeah, most beautiful mess in the world, he thought, but miraculously kept that opinion from being voiced. "No. I think you're right. Everyone expects you to pick up where you left off, like nothin' happened, and that's just bloody stupid. An' you're right. I don't expect you to go back to 'normal', but I have been askin' something of you lately. You know I try not to, don't you? Know I wish I didn't feel this way? Because it'd be easier on both of us."

"I know." She smiled at him halfheartedly.

They rounded the bend and picked up the motorcycle from it's place in the shopping plaza parking lot that was nearest the modeling agency. They rode back to the decrepit motel. Buffy went to collect anything of hers that might be up there, and Spike paid the remainder of the bill.

In the gathering darkness they rode to their new hotel, and again, Spike paid, sorted the room and carried their few belongings up. "I'll heat up the blood, Luv, you go have your nice, hot shower. Then we can sort out some things and call Bit and Rupes."

"Sounds like a plan." She sighed, and went into the shower, reveling in the fact that it was pristine and had no cobwebs or dead insects in the corners, unlike last night's accommodations. And she had remembered to take her pajamas in with her, so she wouldn't have to relive this morning's embarrassment.

She winced as the hot water touched her breasts, and covered them protectively. Put her palms over them. Wishing, guiltily, that they were his hands instead. No, no I won't be weak, she thought furiously, and began to lather. Wash his touch off you, wash him away. But to no avail. Anywhere her hands touched seemed to invoke sensory memory. His chest to hers, his back under her hands, his shoulders under her arms, even his hardness under her rear, both of them pretending not to notice it.

Bugger this classy hotel. Spike drained the quart jar of heated blood in a few moments. It didn't help. His bloodlust wasn't for the blood, it was all about the lust tonight. And unlike the dive from yesterday, this place was full of people and had no obscure little thickets or concealed areas of the parking lot where he could go to relieve his very frustrated length. As often as it had been awakened and ignored today, he was amazed it hadn't made him walk funny, what with parts of him feeling so swollen and needing to be emptied. He groaned and paced once. No good, not going away. And I can't have a conversation with Buffy, let alone Bit and the Watcher with this in the way.

No help for it. If it was like last night, he'd only be a second before he was out of his pleasurable pain. She'd never know. If he was quick and he was quiet, and he made good use of the sink by the coffee maker before she returned. She'd never hear him under the shower. But she'd been in there for a bit, his luck wouldn't hold forever, so he'd have to get a move on.

Buffy sat on the edge of the vanity counter, long ago clean, but unable to go out and think about the evil they would face, and call the people who asked her to face it blindly. So she let the shower run, full hot, and breathed in the steam. Relax. It's like a sauna. People relax in saunas. Who says I'm people? she asked miserably. I don't feel very people-y anymore.

The noise was faint at first. A soft noise, almost like a sob, but not quite. She wasn't dressed yet, and if it was just the television, she'd shut the door and pretend she hadn't heard. Go back to her little world of heat and steam where the only thing that mattered was how cute the pictures were that you drew on the mirror. Wrapping the towel around herself, she cracked open the door. And bit back a gasp.

"Buffy." She thought he'd seen her, but no, it wasn't a comment meant for her. Not _this_ her, anyway, but certainly the her inside Spike's head. She couldn't see anything but his back, but from the tautness in his shoulders and the frantic movement of one shoulder and arm, she knew what he was doing. That soft sobbing sound- was her name, choked out quietly, and then a grunt and a little ragged moan. She shut the door silently.

Oh my God. That's so wrong. That's disgusting. He's getting off, literally getting _off_, by thinking about me. Buffy tried to whip up some anger and indignation- but it refused to surface. If she was honest, she had released her pent up fire thinking about him two nights in a row. What does that say about me, or us? That we're sick and doomed to failure. Poor him. Poor me. Especially poor me. I just felt sorry for him, I'm losing my mind.

She dressed quickly, her clothes and skin damp from the steam, and clinging to her. She dispensed with the bra, honestly not giving a damn if you could almost see right through her white tank top. This body was just a shell, and she couldn't control it anymore, anyway. It lusted after the unclean creatures in the world. _One_ unclean creature. At least, she rationalized, it was a "nice" unclean creature, one who couldn't do anything to hurt those she loved. She turned off the shower, and a split second later heard another stream of water turn off. She knew what it was, and why it was in use.

"Hi." Spike nodded, not quite looking at her, as she emerged. He made a show of rinsing out the plastic container that had been full of blood, now drying it and carefully resting it on top of the microwave.

"Hey." She replied, eyes skating over him and away.

"Rough day, Slayer?" He asked softly, turning to face her, eyes still not connecting with hers.

"More than you know." She smiled tiredly, and leaned against his shoulder for a second, before she walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive responses so far! Dedicated to Idiosyncratic Delusions._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part III

"D'you wanna call Niblet or Giles first?" Spike crashed back on his bed, legs crossed at the ankles, arms behind his head, completely at ease. Or at least giving that appearance.

"Giles. What are we gonna say?" Buffy sat heavily on the small chaise lounge beside her bed.

"Human. But got some deep dark mojo in her." Spike said flippantly.

"You said she smelled old?"

"Not old. _I'm _old. I'm talkin' ancient, Pet."

"She didn't look that old. She didn't give off a vampire-y feeling either."

"No. But then again, neither does Anya, and she's what, a millennium, give or take a year?"

"Yeah, but she's fully human. I don't get any strange feelings from her. Well, not the bad kind. She's-"

"Blunt as a club to the head?" Spike suggested, sitting up and facing her.

"Yes! Just like that!" Buffy nodded in agreement. "I mean- I like her, and I'm so happy for Xander, it's just-"

"No need to explain, Pet. She's odd. But likable. Quite prefer her to Xander, actually."

"You would." Buffy rolled her eyes. "So do we tell him it's a vengeance demon?"

"Wouldn't make sense, Luv. Why does a vengeance demon kill off random models?"

"We don't know that they were random. Maybe they all scorned lovers or something!" Buffy argued, scooting off her chair and pacing, her voice rising. "Or maybe they were all backstabbing traitors or bad friends. We don't know."

"No, but we do that she doesn't give off a straight demon vibe, Luv, which vengeance demons usually do. A vengeance demon is always in demon form, just with a skin coating."

"Like you. Like vampires." Buffy smiled coldly.

"No! Not just like us. Not just like me anyway, Buffy. I- I am in my human body. I remember being human. I know what it's like to be human. I have a demon that comes out when I call it forth. A vengeance demon has a human it calls forth. The opposite. And neither of those is what that lady, Melissa, is. She's human. She's evil. She's got something tapped into her, but she isn't in an artificial skin."

"And you're sure?" Buffy demanded.

Spike sighed and reached for his lighter. "No. I'm not sure. I was kind of distracted in the 30 seconds she was there! But I'm a bloody good guesser, and I know a fair bit about evil. Alright?"

"I'll call." Buffy stopped looking at him. She kept seeing the shivering shoulders of pent up arousal and hearing the soft rush of air as he said her name. How could she catch him like that, and then talk face to face with him and see nothing but an arrogant bleached blonde bloodsucker? She sat on the bed, facing away from his, looking at the stunningly bad landscape paintings that all hotels seem to have instead. She reached back and jerked the phone on the nightstand over to her lap.

"Are you gonna tell him about the shoot?" Spike's voice hit her between the shoulder blades. He watched her twitch and waited for the threats and the venom.

"No." A quiet, weary voice. "No."

"Right, then." He stood up and paused awkwardly between their double beds. Her tight and withdrawn body language clearly meant come no closer. He sat back down. If it hadn't been a bed, if he hadn't had his hands all over her half naked body this afternoon, maybe he could have shoved himself alongside her, brought her out of herself. But the bed, and the body, were there, so he sat on his own bed and fondled his lighter, trying to decide whether or not to light up.

"Hi, Giles?"

"Oh, thank God." His voice radiated relief. "Buffy, are you alright? We've all been so worried."

"We're fine." She cleared her throat. "We've seen it, but we don't know what we're dealing with. We need you to do some research and help us find out what it is and how to kill it."

"Of course. Let me-" She heard a rustle of paper, "let me jot down the description."

"Human. Female. About 40?"

"_Looks_ 40." Spike corrected.

"Oh, is that Spike?"

"Who else would it be, Rupes?" Spike chuckled softly, flicking his lighter open.

"Quite." Giles glided over the comment. "You say looks 40?"

"Yeah. Smells like ancient _human_ evil, looks like an attractive middle aged lady."

"Attractive? We were only with her for 30 seconds and you took time to notice she was attractive? But you were too _distracted_ to size up the evil-ness factor?" Buffy turned and glared at him, lips pressing together.

"Oi! Gettin' a visual is basic stuff, tryin' to suss out the nature of evil is difficult!"

"Whatever." Buffy slammed the body of the phone back onto the night stand and propped her head in her hand. "So, _attractive_, human, ancient-feeling, 40ish-looking, evil. Whaddya got for me?" She waited while Giles fumbled over some notes and stammered. "Attractive?" She mouthed at Spike.

"Jealous, Pet?" He whispered, and her eyes flamed. "'Cause you don't need to be. You know I only see you when I close my eyes."

Yes. Yes, she sure as hell knew that now. Heard it and seen it. Maybe he was just trying to help them get the most information. If Melissa had been ugly he would have added that into his description.

"And no mirrors. There were no mirrors in any of the rooms we went into, not even where they did hair and makeup, only the ladies' room." Buffy added.

"Anything else you can think of? Did she have a pendant? Like Anyanka?"

"No. Spike says it isn't a vengeance demon anyway." Buffy explained, not looking at Spike's gratified expression. "She wore pearls. Her name was Melissa."

"The rest of the folks there don't register as anything but human. Bloody annoying humans, but humans." Spike grunted, thinking of Rob and the way he had practically called his Buffy flat chested. Not that she was his. And not that she was- oh God. She was perfect. Just perfect for him, and he had to stop thinking of how she felt under his hands, _right now_.

"So many things wear the guise of humans. You're certain it isn't a vampire?"

"Giles..."

"Right, right, just checking. I'll have everyone working on it tonight. Give me your room number and we'll call if we find something."

"Ummm." Buffy looked around and Spike pointed to the laminated strip on the base of the phone, giving her a "dumb blonde" look. "Oh. Here you go." She recited the number twice and tried to extract herself from Giles' concerned voice, asking if she was sure she was well, if she had been hired, if Spike was behaving, all brain hurt-y questions that made her feel that panicky trapped feeling of being stuck in a world with too many expectations. "I should go." she said abruptly. "I need to call Dawn."

"Oh! She's here, you're in luck."

"She's there? It's a school night!"

"It isn't, you know." Spike corrected with an amused smile. "Oh God. It isn't. We said we had class."

"Well- they don't know what kind of classes! Maybe we take Saturday classes because we're such scholarly types."

"You? Me? Scholarly?"

"Oh, shut up, Spike!" She kicked her legs out across the space between their beds and hit him in the shin. He growled and glared, retracting his legs and rubbing his newly bruised skin. "Put Dawn on."

"Buffy are you sure that you-"

"Put her on."

Dawn's voice crackled on the line, loud and exuberant. "Hi! How did you do? Did you find it? Is it easy to kill?"

"Hi yourself. We did fine. We found it. We don't know how to kill it yet." Buffy tried to force some interest into her voice, but it just came out as flagged. "How was school? Do you have homework? Are Tara and Willow staying with you tonight, they're staying in?"

Dawn answered the questions in order. "It was okay. I got a C+ on my science test. That's good- if you're me. And I have an English paper to work on and some math. Willow's gonna help me. And yeah, they're staying with me until you get home, Xander and Anya can handle some quick patrols."

"Right. Patrols." Buffy lay back on the bed, in a fetal position. She let Dawn prattle on, not really listening. Just drifting away. Wouldn't it be nice if there were no patrols? If you got your reward, if you were left dead like all the rest of the Slayers? Spike was right. Eventually, you craved that look of peace...

Spike stood up and reached over, taking the phone from her ear. "Huh?"

"Hi, Bit." Spike patted her head once, gently, and sat back on his own bed. Buffy looked at him, puzzled. "Did you get your history paper back?"

"What are you doing?" Buffy hissed. Spike's face went from gentle to annoyed. He didn't answer her, instead replied to Dawn.

"You what? No, you can't start poker games in the school library. The library is meant to be dull and silent. Do it in the lunch room. And make sure you see the money before you let them in."

"What are you doing?" Buffy repeated, struggling for the phone.

"Wait a minute, Platelet." Spike covered the receiver. "D'you actually want to speak to the girl now? Or you gonna do your disappearin' act again?"

"I was talking to her and you stole the phone!"

"Buffy, when Dawn asks 'Are you there?' six times in a row, you've left the conversation. And there's no shame in that, " He let his eyes soften, "unless you hurt Dawn doing it."

She looked like he'd slapped her. She always did hate hearin' the truth from me, Spike sighed deeply and went back to his conversation with Dawn.

How is it so easy for him? Look at him. Talking with my little sister. That's my job! _But you don't want it anymore, do you? _Knowing she needs you, making you feel like the world can start up now that you're back, it's too much. It's overwhelming, it's too real and too hard. Let Spike do it. For now. Buffy rolled over, curled up tighter and faced the wall again.

"Is Buffy okay?" Dawn whispered.

Spike pulled the phone to his bed, and then walked, stretching the cord as far as possible, trying not to let her hear everything, even though he knew she would hear it all if she chose to. But somehow, he cast a look at the little bundle on the bed, he didn't think that she cared to. "She's like she has been. Maybe a bit better at times. Just remember what we talked about. You've done really well, helpin' keep the others off her back. But you know why it's so hard for her now, don't you?"

"I didn't know they were going to, Spike." Dawn sounded tearful and desperate now. "Sometimes, I'm afraid she hates me, like I'm the reason they brought her back. I didn't ask them to! I already- made that mistake with Mom."

"I know, Bit. They didn't tell me either, and you know why. You know why they didn't tell either of us." Because we'd have stopped them. Because it would've taken ever ounce of will, but they would have let her rest.

"Do- do you think she misses heaven enough to try to go back? Enough to leave us again?"

"No, Bit. Not like that. She's just learnin' to live in this world again." Spike lied easily, comfortingly. But he was always honest with Dawn, and he disliked having to shield her. He was torn between protecting Buffy and protecting her. He couldn't let it go though, not leave it all cheery and fake, or she'd never trust him again, if... But he wouldn't let the "if" happen. Still... "Look, Dawn, even if she did, I'm not leavin' okay? We've made a pact. An' I keep the promises I make to my ladies."

Dawn's heart fluttered, with something between sisterly and crush-like affection. It wasn't something she could define, just that his words made her feel "special." And not in a glowy, magic key way. Special like a normal girl with people who loved her and wanted to stay with her. "Thank you. I'm keeping my promise, too."

"Good girl. I'm gonna go, make sure your sis gets her beauty rest."

"Okay. I love you, Spike."

"I love you, too, Niblet." Spike blinked in shock. He didn't think she'd ever told him that before. Maybe she had, maybe during one of their shared grievin' jags, and he hadn't heard her properly. "Night now."

"G'night."

He hung up and came nose to nose with one extremely furious looking Slayer. "Hell, Slayer, sit -Dammit!" Her fist collided with his lip, which split. And collided with his chin, knocking him flat on his back, and she came along for the ride. "Dammit! Do you remember that we get our PICTURES taken tomorrow? That we actually have to refrain from beating the SHIT out of each other until we get done?" He licked the blood off his lip and rubbed his jaw.

"You told her you _loved _her! Why would you do that? Why would you do that to her? Confuse her, make her feel like she can trust you, and then you'll run, or you'll slip and she's alone!"

"No, Slayer, that's you!" He ground out, shoving her off his chest where she had landed when they fell, scrambling up. Another blow to his stomach as soon as he straightened, but he didn't care now. "She said it first, an' dammed if I'll let it lie there! Some of us still know how to accept love!"

"It. Isn't. Love!" Three jabs, left, right, left, weak and not doing much to him.

"All I know is she said it, an' I feel it. So I said it back. I'm not tryin' to overcomplicate this."

"But it is! It is, it's all overcomplicated and nothing makes sense!" Her voice rose to a pained whine and tears trembled on her lashes suddenly. "I didn't let her down, Spike! I didn't run from her, I didn't slip, I DIED."

"I know, Luv. An' Dawn and I are happy you're back, but we didn't drag you back here. You can't cope with her, all the time, that's fine. You've got loads of mates to help you. Just give her- whatever you can. That's all she wants. That's all I want."

She didn't even know how it happened, but she was crying. On him, her forehead to the center of his chest. And he didn't make any cracks. "I'm sorry." He said a few times, his hands gently caressing her hair. She said nothing. Eventually, he nudged her aside enough to reach down and pull back her covers. He pressed her shoulders gently, sinking her down onto the mattress. He bent and grabbed her ankles, swung her legs up and tucked her in. "You want the telly on?"

"'Kay." She whimpered.

"Here." He handed her the remote. She didn't take it. He sighed and switched it on. "My choice, is it?", Spike nervously flipped through channels. "Twaddle, twaddle, rubbish,violence, sex, violence, ooh, cute puppies running into doors!" He watched her head raise slightly as she looked at him in surprise. "It's the show with cute animals doin' humorous things." Her head sank down again.

It was early. Way too early to sleep. But sleep was an escape. If you slept, you didn't need to talk, and if you were lucky you didn't dream and didn't feel. _And if I do dream- maybe it'll be of heaven. And if it's a nightmare- don't I deserve it?_

Spike watched her fall asleep. A couple hours he sat and stared. If I could just touch you, Luv. I'd make the pain stop for a little while. If I made it worse, you could beat me to earth for it, and that'd make you feel better. Either way, you come out on top. He bit his lip again. Damn his dirty mind. Her cumming on top. Mustn't think like that.

Finally, he turned off the lights and the television and undressed. He walked naked from his bed to the shower, scrubbed off, relieved the mounting pressure in his groin again, quietly as he could, and walked back out, confident that her sleep was deep and restful. Her heart thudded along evenly, no pounding pulse. He hesitated as he passed her bed. If she woke up and saw his naked body near her, he'd get a stake through his bits. _Couldn't hurt more than the hole she dug in your heart._ He leaned over and kissed her head swiftly, heaving a relieved sigh when she didn't stir.

Trapped. Why was she trapped? Tiny little box, no room to move, can't draw back her arms to swing, or her legs to kick. Helpless. She can't be helpless, she was safe. She can't breathe and no one comes when she screams. With each scream she knows there's less air. She has to get out or she'll suffocate. And yet, she can't get out, and she can't stop screaming either. The panic has peaked, sending the screams into sobbing whimpers.

Buffy. What in God's name was she fighting, and why hadn't she asked for help? These thoughts raced riot through Spike's head as his eyes flew open. Her heart rate was skyrocketing, he could swear any minute the blood would burst out of her veins, as hard as it was pumping. He stood and peered at her, glad he could see in the dark. She was screaming, little stifled, soft, heartbroken screams, clawing at something invisible, her hands tangled in the sheet.

"Buffy! Buffy! Wake up, Pet, it's a dream!" Spike rushed to her side and dragged her hands from the sheet. "Buffy!" He shouted and shook her shoulders.

Her eyes flew open with a gasp and a choking shudder. She coughed as if taking in the first breath of air in hours. He sat beside her, quickly yanking the sheet over him, not so much for his modesty, but for her peace of mind. "Where am I?"

"Shh. Shh. You had a dream. But it's only a dream. We're in a hotel, in Cliffside." He spoke softly and patted her back gently.

"Okay. Okay. I- I can breathe. I can breathe. Am I breathing?" She looked at him, eyes bright and frantic.

"Like a stallion on the last lap, Luv. Slow down. Slow down." He put his hands on her shoulders and breathed in and out with her, forcing her to breathe at his slow, steady rhythm before she passed out from hyperventilation. "Do you want the lights? Do you need some water?"

"No. No lights." She gasped out.

"Right. Right, you are. It's safe here. I've got you, Buffy." Spike felt a twisting and turning in the vicinity of their laps, his legs being pressed close to hers under the sheets as he sat beside her. He looked down. Her hands, rubbing each other relentlessly, fingers abrading the knuckles in a constant loop of left over right and right over left. Just as he'd thought. Clawing from a nightmare coffin. "Stop. You're hurtin' yourself." He firmly clamped his hands over hers, holding them still.

Holding her hands still seemed to funnel the nervous energy into the rest of her body, and she shook all over, like a tree caught in a trembling wind. Wordlessly, he drew her against him, sheet still acting as a divider. Not that it was so necessary this time. He found a split second to congratulate himself that he didn't feel anything but the desire to love and comfort in a nonsexual way, and a second to berate himself for even considering whether or not he had any amorous impulses. He held her tight, swaddling her in his arms until the tremors were infrequent.

"How often do you have the dreams?"

"A lot." She whispered.

"Do the others know?"

"No." A sharp twitch. She wanted to push him away, but she couldn't. She couldn't move or the shaking would start all over again.

"D'you tear your hands up each time?" His voice was calm and nonjudgemental, which she appreciated. She didn't tell anyone lest they panic, or fawn, or press her for details and get her to "talk about it".

"Um. Yeah. Usually."

"An' they heal by mornin'?"

"Yeah." Same flat voice.

He held her tighter. "I'm sorry." He said simply.

"Thank you. Me too."

She fell asleep again, finally, and he stayed awake, holding her. If her pulse started the upswing, he murmured and tightened his grip, pleased beyond belief that for one night he could give her some comfort. He didn't move for the rest of the night, a long two or three hours of laying awake, and then he slept, knowing he'd waken if her sleep became troubled.

Her eyes sprang open like they were on hinges. And as hers did, his flew open as well. His hands jerked off of her body and he waited for the insults and accusations to flood from her. Instead he was met with a mute backwards scramble.

"I'm sorry. I know what this must look like..." He licked his lips. I'm nude in your bed, and my hard-on just woke up when I did. "But I swear-"

"No, it's okay." She seemed oddly relaxed with his presence. "Did you keep the dreams away?"

"I did my bloody best." He shrugged. "They didn't come back?"

"No. No more dreams. I'm sorry I lost it in front of you."

"Pfft." He closed his eyes and turned his head with a casual smile. "No worries." He shifted uncomfortably as the throb between his thighs made itself more urgently known. And grimaced as her eyes traveled down. "Hey. It's a guy thing, alright?" He pushed a pillow from behind his head to his lap defensively.

"I know. And- and I'm sorry. I know you tried not to let me know last night that you-" She blushed and her voice trailed off.

"Know what? Know that I what, Buffy?" He growled, scooting into a sitting position.

"I- I saw yesterday. I came out of the shower. I don't mean I _saw_, I just- I saw." She concluded lamely, cheeks now cherry red.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you let me know were there?" Spike looked horrified.

"I didn't want to embarrass you." Buffy felt confusion overwhelm her. She wouldn't have wanted to be interrupted then, and it wasn't like she stood around and watched. "I popped my head out, saw you were busy, and I went back in. Okay? I wasn't spying on you!"

"No, I didn't think that'd be your thing." Spike stood up, jerking the sheet with him, knowing she was dressed and he wasn't. His voice was harsh as he backed onto his bed, letting his rage flow, his shame finding an outlet. "Didn't think you'd watch. Bet you laughed though, didn't you? 'Poor Spike. Like a caged animal in heat with no partner. Like a caged animal in heat, having to use his hand instead of finding a proper mate, because he's too lovesick over a Slayer to even consider anyone else. Because he's not a proper vamp anymore, doesn't want to be with one. Poor Spike, he's not human either, but he loves one. Too bad he can't _be_ with one!'" His tirade echoed round the room before he took a breath. All the while he was ranting, he was searching, twisting in his sheet. "Where in the soddin' hell are my jeans?" He looked up at her, her face a study in emotional torment, anger, fear, realization, grief all vying for position. And he was sure, if he could only see his reflection, that it would match hers. He paused, standing, sheet wrapped around him, one hand bunching it at his hips, one hand clenched and gesturing at her. "Say it! Say you laughed, it can't hurt me worse than you already do!" He roared.

"No. I didn't. I would never laugh about that." She looked at him with glimmering eyes. "Because it isn't funny. I thought- I thought it was so sad that you- were feeling that for me. And I felt it for you. And we can't. It's awful, we're both sick, we have this bad desire..." She made her way over to him as she spoke, finding him open mouthed and still in the shock of her admission.

"Both of us?" He whispered incredulously. She nodded, eyes closing, lines of pain around her face. He tilted her chin softly upwards, and kissed her. Miraculously, she let him.

Sweet Jesus, he sat heavily on the bed, his knees going out in shock, she was letting him. He felt her sink on the bed beside him, and he kissed her deeper and deeper, slowly leaning her back. And then, predictably unpredictably, she stopped him. "We can't."

"Why?" He breathed, lips finding hers again. And again she let him, only to push him off after another moment in heaven.

"We have to stop. Spike- I don't love you."

"Bull." He panted, trying to find her mouth again, but she looked at him desperately, shaking her head.

"I do want you. But I don't love you."

"It never hurts any less you know." He whispered, his mouth almost touching hers. "You tellin' me that. If I were smart, I'd leave, get my heart away from that blade in your mouth. But I'm not smart."

"I'm sorry, but I don't love you." She repeated. If I say it enough, I can make it true. If I hurt him enough, he'll leave. And if he leaves, I don't have to feel. If he leaves, I don't have anything else to stay for... "I only _want_ you." Stupid mouth. Stupid heart. No! Not heart. Just her stupid body.

"You want me?" He looked hopeful. "Buffy, that's a start. That's somethin'. You must see, or feel somethin' you can respond to, if you have any desire for me."

"I know. But- but I can't make love to someone that I don't-"

"So you loved your Initiative lad, then?" He interrupted. The flash of pain in her eyes would be worth it, if only he made her see. "Answer me, Pet."

"I can't." She whispered, and tried to squirm away. He gripped her shoulder gently, making her stay.

"You made love with him, and you never loved him. Don't have to say it, Buffy, I know. Know you _cared f_or him. Caring is a much less complex emotion." Her own words scraped her raw heart and she pushed away from him hard, not leaving the bed, but his body.

"What are you saying? That I couldn't love with a soul, and you can without one?"

"Don't think it has to do with souls, Luv." He shook his head quickly. "Think it has to do with humanity, with ability."

"Humanity?" She whispered. Something she had told Giles she was losing. Losing as a Slayer, becoming harder and harder, until she wouldn't be able to love.

"You were afraid you'd lose yours, and I found mine. Found it again. In you. For you."

"If I'm not as human as I was, and you're becoming more and more, then why do you want me?" She asked brokenly.

"Because I love you. I love _you_, as in Buffy Summers. Don't care what you are, or what you're becoming. Can't I just love you?"

"No. You can't love." She lied to herself, and him.

"You doubt that, don't you?" He said, with that scary perception, that "I know you, even if we both pretend I don't" stare. "Is it 'cause you can't love me back? You don't have to, but don't reject my love because of that." He gave her one more kiss before he leaned away from her, drinking her in, reading her face. "I could make you feel something. Is that what you're afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid." Again a lie. You let him see you cry, you can't let him see you're scared. And it's Spike. Spike! You can't be afraid of him, he's harmless, he's helpless. But yes, he could reach her in ways that scared her. "I'm not. You know why I can't. I keep saying it, but you're too _stupid_ to listen to me."

He stroked her hair slowly. She didn't move away, neither did he. Both of us are bloody stupid, or misery loves company. "I knew you'd never love me." He whispered. "But I guess hope is hard to kill."

Kill. Another thing she'd killed. Death is my gift. I'm full of love. Those don't go together, and I hate it. And I hate it. I hate that I can't understand anything in this place they call my home and I know I'm stuck in hell. And who's here with me? Spike. She gave a strangled sob and launched herself into his arms.

He kissed her hungrily, and she responded, warm and wet against him, letting her tears get kissed away, and lips pressed feverishly to her troubled brow, then back down to her lips. Love, comfort, passion. Her little moans drove him mad, she seemed to be speaking into his kisses, and when he stopped to take in the beautiful symphony she made, he was surprised to hear his own noises layered underneath hers. "I love you. Jus' let me say it." He begged.

"I- I care about you." She whispered back, not grudgingly, but painfully, as if each word cost her something. Was it something she was giving away, or letting back in? She didn't know anymore.

He rolled over on top of her, and she felt his hardness press into her soft stomach through layers of sheet and sweatpants. "What are you...?" She felt him reaching across her back, down the band of her sweatpants.

"You ever let them touch you? Those two? The ones you didn't love?"

"Yes." She confessed.

"What they made you feel? I'll blow it away, Luv. This is for you."

She shivered at his words. Let him touch her? Where her liquid fire had been seeping from ever since he first kissed her? Wrong, but she wanted it so bad. But just for her? Was she unable to give? Maybe I'm tired of giving, but this- this isn't just for me. When she looked in his eyes, he didn't hold anything back from her anymore. Maybe I can give him something. If I fail, with him it doesn't matter. Because I don't care, or because he won't judge? Ugggh. Stop thinking! "It can be for both of us." She breathed as he touched her through her clothes.

"That's right, Buffy. Together. Feel better together." He smoothed his hand gently across her crotch.

Her hips lifted while he kissed her breathless, told her she was beautiful, and precious, and loved. That he'd keep her safe. The closest thing she had felt to heaven since she came back. His eyes asked permission and she lifted her hips another inch, and he pushed the gray sweats down.

"My God. Know that you're real, Luv. Even in my fantasies you don't look this beautiful. I didn't know anything was this beautiful."

She blushed and kissed him, shy to be praised, to feel him looking at her there. And mildly irritated. Shouldn't she take charge? She was the Slayer and he was helpless, chipped, neutered. She should be bold and in control. But when she looked up at him, she didn't feel like he was controlling her, and she didn't feel the need to change anything. It was peaceful. Peaceful, and safe, and warm.

"Open up?" He whispered, hand on her hip. She nodded and swallowed audibly. "Shh. Just petting you, Luv. You tell me if you want more." He knew he could make her cum with just his hands. Mainly because he wouldn't stop until she had a dozen moments of pleasure, one gift he could give that she might accept. And he wouldn't be greedy or ask for anything more, like everyone else did. He would give her love and some stolen moments of sweetness. His angel had come back from heaven, and the least he could do was show her someone was just genuinely grateful to be in her presence.

What the hell. She'd died two times. She'd gotten ripped out of heaven. She'd slept with one vampire who turned away from her, and two men who had left her. Letting Spike, truly worshipful and completely unwilling to leave, make her feel something good was probably, all things considered, a reasonably good sexual decision. She opened her legs and let him brush her, stroke her slowly, lovingly.

"Spike." She gasped his name and his dead heart managed to lift and beat, he knew it had.

"You're wet. For me?"

"You're hard for me, aren't you?" She sounded defensive.

"Like steel, Sweetheart. But that's for later, if you want it. Right now is all about you." He slicked his fingers with her heat, smearing it all over her pink tender lips and around her little pearl. She gasped and dug her fingers in to his shoulders. He smiled at her, kissing the lips that smiled back. Kissing her until she was boneless under him, he slid in two fingers. And froze. Hmm. That didn't feel right. He pushed one finger in instead. She whimpered and rolled her hips into his hand. He pushed harder and widened his eyes.

"Now what?" She whispered. She regarded him cautiously. Two out of three times she had been intimate with men, it had been a one time deal. Her heart already began building a wall as soon as she kissed these days. And now his worshipful look was gone, replaced by a look of shock.

"You never said, is all." He kissed her hard. "I love you. I do love you, and I can't believe you're lettin' me."

"What didn't I tell you?" Buffy looked up at him with a mixture of affection and puzzlement.

"You-" He paused and lowered his brows. "You're-" He gave her a knowing look. And she didn't return it, looked like she was still puzzled, and getting mildly freaked out. "You're tight in there, Luv. As in 'unopened'."

"Excuse me, but what?" Buffy sat up, smacking heads with Spike and promptly falling back. He rubbed his head with his forearm and then propped himself up higher over her, looking at her confused face.

"Did your body- maybe- 'reset' itself when you came back?"

"No! Hello, Angel! Parker, Riley!" Buffy flung an arm over her eyes and pointed her chin towards the ceiling, leaving her bare neck exposed. He couldn't leave it there, just begging for attention. She found herself letting Spike lovingly nibble and kiss every inch of it. "This can't be happening. I can't be- what you think." She whispered to the ceiling.

"Did you check once you came back?" Spike murmured against her collarbone, one hand rolling up her thin white tank.

"No, I've done it already! Besides, since I came back, I've been teary and angry and miserable. Not horny. And the last couple nights-" He looked at her with awed eyes. Was she admitting she'd pleasured herself, thinking of him? "I didn't need much help, okay? Besides, I've already done this! I did this plenty!"

"I know you have, Pet. And I imagine you're bleedin' marvelous at it." He smirked at her for a split second, the less loving, more hunter-esque side showing. "You could just have some of the physical properties, is all."

"It doesn't matter." Buffy looked up at him resignedly, and his hands died at her sides. "I gave it up to one vamp, I can lose it to another. I died _twice_, I can have a first time, _twice_. I'm special like that." She said bitterly.

"I wasn't going to take it. I thought you knew, and you were choosin' me." He whispered a soft denial. "I know you don't love me. Now I know you thought it was just another time. But since it isn't like that, you didn't know... Hey, that's how it goes sometimes, yeah?" He smiled bravely at her. "Doesn't mean I can't make you cum, Baby."

He nudged her rolled hem up over her pert breasts and kissed them all over, finding the nipple as he started using his magical hand on the outside of her pussy, no more penetration.

"Spike." She moaned and grabbed for his sheet, surprised when his hand pushed hers off. "Mm?" She gave a frustrated squeak.

"You'll get me goin', Luv, an' I won't want to stop."

"So don't stop." She caressed his hard muscled chest.

"I'm tryin' to be noble, not take, just give." He confessed. "An' don't think it isn't hard for me to behave. So don't- oh. Oh Christ." Her hot little hand wormed it's way down to his stomach and bumped his hard length.

"Do I have to invite you in?" She giggled suddenly, watching his eyes roll back, just from her touch. It was extremely gratifying and her ego swelled.

"What'd I say about this?" He reminded her, begging his resolve to resist her. But when she smiled up at him, and offered it- God, it was everything he'd ever wanted. Almost everything, he reminded himself sharply. Her love was missing.

"You said you'd love me, and you'd give, not take." She licked her lips, not believing what she was saying. "Give me something to fill me up, make me feel something again."

"Buffy-" She shushed him and jerked the sheet down with her impressive strength, stoking him more firmly.

"What if I can never love again?" She whispered. "What if I came back without the ability?"

"I don't believe that, Buffy, You love Dawn. You love your mates."

"But I struggle to do it! Someday, I might not even be able to." She whispered her shameful confession. I'm a monster, I can barely love my own sister. I died to save her life, and now I can hardly stay on the phone for five minutes with her. "I came back with pieces taken out..."

"I'll help you find them, Buffy, whatever you're missing." He looked into her green eyes, eyes he had never thought he would see open again. "I love you."

"And I care for you, Spike." She admitted, as much to herself as to him. "That's the best I can do now. Maybe I'll never love anyone again. Maybe in this world, caring about someone is the best we can get."

"If it's you, Luv, it's more than enough." He kissed her, and he realized he meant what he said. He would settle for her affection, if he couldn't have her love. As long as _he_ could still love _her_. He understood her veiled musings. If she could never love again, only care, well, she was choosing him to care about. That was precious, that was a gift, and he was grateful.

A few more minutes of heated kissing and touching, and he rolled off. She looked over at him and her eyes widened. "Like what you see, Luv?" He asked, sliding one hand up and down his impressive pale length.

"You weren't kidding about what the sport package has under the hood." Buffy gasped.

"You sure you want something that big- today?" He asked, another few pumps, tantalizing her.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean- damn, Baby." He laughed, a deep relaxed laugh without his usual touch of scorn, and laid back fully.

"You like it, come and get it." He winked.

"What, me- on top?" She blushed.

"I'll close my eyes, if you'd like, Pet." He offered. "Although makin' me stop lookin' at paradise is pretty cruel."

"Yeah, well- that's me these days." She started to sit up and move over to him, and his hand met her chest, square in the center, holding her back. She opened her mouth in surprised offense, but he was already speaking.

"No. That isn't you. You're kind and you're caring. You struggle more than anyone knows, Buffy, but you've never been cruel." Except to me, he thought sadly, but he didn't let her see the pain he felt.

"Except to you." She said bluntly. He blinked and his eyes slid away. He shrugged.

"Doesn't really count in my case. Evil undead, an' all that. Guess it goes with the job."

She didn't speak, but she slowly moved astride him, looking down into his dark crystal blue eyes. There's a human in there. No demon, no evil, could ever look at me with eyes like that. God, I hope- I hope there's still a human behind my eyes. "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

He smiled, the same kind of smile she had seen the first time he noticed she was back, alive. Soft, overjoyed, and somewhat disbelieving. "Yes, but you don't have to. Knowin' you thought it is plenty."

"But I _am_ sorry." She leaned her head into his rising palm and leaned against him, halfway on top, not in position. "I'm sorry. But I'll probably-"

"I know." He shushed her. They shared a brief smile. "We both know." That you'll hurt me again, and we both know I'll come back because I love you. "An' it's alright, Pet."

"No, it's wrong." She sighed, pressing her hand with unexpected gentleness to his cheek.

"Well, yeah. The whole thing's wrong, Luv." He snorted out a laugh, making her grin in return. He kissed her fingertips and looked up at her. "Slayer of Slayers makin' himself sick with love for the Vampire Slayer, and the brightest, most beautiful angel ripped out of heaven and fallin' into my arms." She hesitantly stoked his face again, and his head nuzzled into her touch. "But I meant it's okay if you hurt me, Pet."

"It shouldn't be okay." I shouldn't care if I hurt him, it's Spike. I should care, I don't hurt people. I didn't used to, anyway. He's not a person. Like hell he isn't. Right now he's more human than the last two humans I was with. She sank her other knee over his waist, trying to block the war of words inside her head.

"Think we've established that none of it's_ okay_." He put his hands on her hips, like he was holding a bubble, and if he squeezed her too hard, she'd burst and flee from him. "You're sure?"

"Sure enough." She gave him her best faux-brazen smile.

"It'll be alright, Buffy. I love you." He was trying not say it, trying not to get kicked each time, but he was a slow learner, he guessed. No Pavlovian success for him, minus the soddin' chip in his head.

"Stop saying that!" She hissed, and jerked her hips roughly in line with his.

"No. You don't have to say it, but you let me say it. Don't ever reject love, even if you can't give it back, Buffy. That's where the humanity starts to crack and peel, Luv."

She leaned over him suddenly, pressing into his shoulders hard, glaring. "Don't lecture me on humanity. You aren't human."

"I know. Doesn't mean I don't know about it though." He hissed back, gripping her shoulders just as hard. "You wanna dance, Slayer, or are we gonna argue? For once in your life, let me be right."

Her eyes ignited and cooled just as rapidly. A smile replaced the look of fury. "Can I call a truce instead of admitting that you're right? I think I might actually die- a third time- if I have to say that you, Spike, the peroxided pest, are right about something."

"I did like my women a little on the cold side, Precious." He smiled back, placing his hands on her back, guiding her to him. "But not you. Like you warm and breathin' against me. Gonna love you hot and screamin' on top of me. So you don't have to say I'm right." He leaned up and bit her earlobe softly, running his lips against her. "Just knowin' you think it in your head gives me the rush..."

She moaned and relaxed, hearing the photographer's words and Spike's in a jumble in her head. "Relax against him!", "Rest on me." Yes. Just rest. She held herself in position, but his hands did the work, he eased her down, a fraction at a time, and they shared every twitch.

He was as sensitive to her heat and tightness as she was to his size and the pressure. Neither one could go too fast, and so they slid slowly, almost painfully, to a stop, half joined.

"What's the matter?" She asked, eyes opening.

"Jus' checkin'. You okay, Luv?" He was hoarse. Why in hell am I hoarse? I'm undead, God, I can go all day and all bloody night. _It's this- this bein' in love with a human rubbish. Takes the fight out of you._ He wouldn't trade it for anything.

"I'm okay." A pause, a squirm, his low moan and closed eyes. "Are you?"

"No. I'm so far past okay, Luv, I don't know where the bloody hell I am. Somewhere past mind bending-ly excellent."

"But I haven't even done anything yet." She gave a wide smile, and he could feel a little tingle of enjoyment surging through her.

"You don't even have to. You bein' with me, does that. Besides, you're not gonna stay up there for long. This was just to get you comfy. Then I'm goin' to flip us around an' take good care of you."

His words were so overtly sexual and so rough against her in his desire. She could feel herself sliding again, again, past a brief twinge of pain, and then on top of him fully. "Buffy?"

"Ow." She frowned down on him, and then her eyes slitted. "Ow! Big, dumb, vampire!"

"Oi! Let's not insult the equipment. I did warn you!" Spike sounded annoyed and

brash, but his eyes told a different story, and so did his hands. A moment ago they had been groping, savoring the feel of her delicious skin, and now they were worriedly rubbing around her waist and hips. She rocked slightly and gasped softly. "Let's get you off this joyride, Pet." He suddenly said, as if reaching a decision.

"Move and I'll stake your ass." She smacked his hand off her hip where it had begun to try and dislodge her. She moved again and whimpered. She wasn't sure if she was "virginal" or if he was just big. Or maybe it had just been too long. A reeeeal long time, if you counted time in the heavenly realm. No! No thinking about that, think about this, this little burn of pain between your lips, and the overwhelming pleasure all over the rest of you. She worked some of him out and sank back down, this time clearly mildly distressed.

"Buffy! Stop! You're hurtin' yourself, and you can't use me to do it."

"Shut up, it's just- just tight." She looked down at him. "It's okay. I'm okay." He nodded and she saw his lips move as a fleeting scowl flitted across his face. "What? What?"

"You confuse me worse than Dru." He laughed, holding his hand up preemptively to ward off the blow he was sure to earn. "You look pained, but you say to keep goin', and well, Dru was- Dru was completely barmy, but I wasn't confused about this part of our life."

"You want me to start bringing up Angel?" She threatened. His eyes glowed with violence and dislike, and he shook his head. "Then you should shut up."

"Right. You're right. See, I don't die when I admit you're right." His tone had gone back to teasing.

"Already dead." She pointed out. "There." She moved without any twinges this last time and looked satisfied. "I can take you."

"An' don't think I'm not dreamin' about it." He smirked. He started pulling her softly to his chest, pushing her hips back, keeping them locked, just changing her from sitting up to slanting down. He cupped her neck and brought her face close to his, hoping she could see the love hiding in his eyes under the taunting.

"What're you doing?" She whispered as his head tilted to take her mouth.

"Kissing you." He said, adding an unspoken "you daft bint."

She sat back up. Kissing when they were like this? She might suddenly say something she didn't mean, or didn't want to mean. Better to keep it about their hot bodies moving in a sexual way, no passionate, tender kisses. Or, they could do passionate kisses, and keep their other parts uninvolved. "Spike-"

"No. I'm not turning back. Kiss me." He didn't plead, he ordered. She hesitated. "Kiss me, dammit!" And he grabbed her, dragged her down, kissing her, feeling her unwilling mouth become increasingly willing and actively participating. Her hands dug into his chest, and her soft sweetness moved against him, gripping him until he thought she might cut off the circulation. He smiled against her mouth, suddenly pleased with his lack of blood flow.

"Ahhf!" A huff of air escaped her as he rolled suddenly, on her back, his weight landing firmly atop her.

"I can make it slow and make it last, or I can make it fast, make it blaze in you." He promised, holding her gaze. "And then start all over again."

Fast was probably better. Get it done, fix the urge and maybe it'd go away, she thought without answering him. There wouldn't be a second time, she'd just get it out of her system.

"Either way- it's gonna be my love." He penetrated her thoughts. He watched the frustration cross her face, eyes shutting tiredly, and then resignation take its place. Eyes opened with a sigh. I've pushed too far, this is when she shoves me off, out of her, and I've blown it, all because I'm a stubborn, soddin' idiot.

"You really don't care if I can't say it back?"

"I really don't."

"Then do it however you want." She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him longingly.

Feeling her give in, he could finally feel, let his tension go away and get on with lovin' her the way she was meant to be loved. "You're so hot, Precious, so hot. Did you know how fantastic you feel? Did you know you could drive a man mad, bring a dead man to life?"

"You're not doing so bad yourself." She groaned into his shoulder as he pumped slowly, thoroughly, in and out of her. He filled her up, all the hollowness melted away for a minute. She pulled him, she whispered his name in his ear, everything that she shouldn't do if she wanted him to consider this a purely physical thing.

"Stop thinkin'." His voice low and bruising against her cleavage, eyes flicking up to her. "Just feel."

"Just feel?" Wasn't that the problem? She couldn't feel.

"You can feel me, feel this, Baby. Just feel."

She let him prove her wrong. She could feel just fine, at least feel what he was doing to her.

"Tell me what you want, Luv, what you need, what you like, I'll give it to you." Spike urged. But she didn't speak. She clung, she clutched him, with her hands and mouth and pussy, and bucked, wrapping her hot sweet opening around him. She squeezed down when he was imbedded in her and held him in place, slayer strength trapping him. No one had ever gripped him like that, he didn't know it was possible. He figured only Buffy could. But she did it all in silence, except for little grunts of his name. Forcing himself to stop, he held himself up, off of that beautiful bodyscape of golden satin. "Tell me."

"You weren't gonna ask me for anything." She breathed painfully, eyes accusing him.

"I'm not asking for your deep dark secrets, Pet. I'm talkin' about some helpful hints so I make this good for you."

"You were doing just fine." She whispered, blushing. What can I tell him? I think I already came twice? I think I can't even unclench my walls from your cock? I could never say those things to him.

"Alright." He nuzzled her softly as he sank back down. "Jus'- if you do wanna talk, I'm listenin'. In fact- I'm a ruddy captive audience, Luv. Could you ease up a bit?" He arched his hips slightly, gesturing to his captured length.

"Just stay in me." She whispered. She massaged him, milked him with her muscles. He nodded. He lay on her, kissing a trail from breasts to neck and back, uttering occasional murmurs of encouragement and praise.

She's letting me. Letting me just hold her. Spike thought, as he had multiple times in the last day, that he could just die happily now. But I'm not given' her the mind blowin' time I offered. I need to stop letting her do all the work. Besides, if she squeezes once more I'm gonna pop inside her. Is she gonna kill me if I do that? I should ask, except I'm not feelin' particularly suicidal right now.

She felt him give a firm tug and heard his grunt as he tried to pull back a bit. And her dam broke. "NO! Stay in me, stay inside, fill me up, dammit, Spike!" She thumped him hard on the shoulder and bit his lip til it bled as she kissed him. "I can't, I can't be empty anymore, God, I can't be empty anymore." She sobbed suddenly, convulsively, like reliving her nightmare. "I care about you, I can care, God, I promise I can. Just stop taking things away from me!"

"Buffy, Buffy, it's okay, I've got you, Pet, I've got you. Not gonna take myself away, ever." He felt his own tears overflow as well, and he hated himself, showing weakness, sure it would later be a loaded gun in her verbal assault collection. But he couldn't help it. It hurt so much to see her in so much pain. "I love you. You're doing so well. Let me fill you up, please, Luv." She nodded, and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, holding him tight, crying slowing as he comforted her with his body.

He took his own advice. Feel his way, his thoughts were too troubled to let his brain lead anymore. He kissed her, dwelling particularly on her supple neck and hugged her breasts with his hands, thumbs teasing the nipples to firm peaks for his mouth to claim. And since she was so reluctant to let go of his cock, he did what his instinct commanded. Jerked himself out roughly and plunged back in with a growl. He continued taking her like that, hard plunges, like his vampire strength demanded. "If I leave, I come back. And it's only for a moment." She squeaked, and he thought perhaps he'd been too rough. Slayer or not, she was much more petite and her body was inexperienced, even if she wasn't. "Sorry." He breathed in her ear, slowing his pace.

"More." She whispered.

"Rough, like that?" He looked at her quizzically.

"Not rough. Aggressive." She contradicted.

"I don't want to hurt you. I'm not your tool to punish yourself with." He reminded her, a trace of anger in his voice.

"It doesn't hurt. I-" She stopped. She wasn't supposed to like that. It was dirty to like it a little bit rough. But why do I care? I am dirty now. I'm a dead thing walking. I'm dirty as it gets, I'm unclean like he is. "I like it like that." She dared him to believe her.

"Oh, Baby." He gave it to her how she wanted it, harder, harder, feeling her juice start to wash over his cock as it flooded out of her. "You do like it."

"I told you." She pushed him off, scrambling back on top, slamming herself down on top of him. He looked up in awe, head snapped back. "I can't feel, I can't love. I just need- "

"It isn't pain." He stopped her words. "This isn't pain."

"It's hard." She snapped.

"So? Does it hurt? Does it, tell me the truth?" He gripped the back of her neck, glaring at her.

"No." She dug her nails down into his chest as her orgasm began to build. "But I can make it hurt."

"An' I can take the pain away." He licked his fingers and reached down, finding her clit.

"Spike." One gasp of his name and a rolling shudder. And she was getting off of him.

"No." He pulled her back on, and back under. "Not done with you yet." He kissed her hard and moved gently again, feeling her little spasms on him, and determined to give her just one more.

She watched him as he worked inside her. Sweat dripped off of him and every muscle clenched. He was gorgeous and he loved her. How hard did you have to work to sweat when you were a vampire? Plenty hard, would be her guess. His face was concentrated, pulled inside himself, feeling her building to a second climax. He looked up at her for a second, a breathless smirk, silver ringed hand running across her cheek. "Love you, Buffy."

She exploded, a soft scream and nails breaking his perfect white skin. "Spike. Oh God, Baby!"

"Unnnh. Unnh! Buffy." He joined her, wincing as his body heaved out what felt like a year's worth of pain and agony in one blissful release. All gone. Taken from him by the woman he loved, and he hoped he'd taken hers.

Five minutes' pleasant nearness. Nodding their approval to one another. His hand clasped around her arm and her arm across his chest. One more kiss. "I love you." He whispered again.

She met him with regretful silence. A small squeeze to his hand, and she struggled away from him, holding a sheet to her naked body. Her feet faltered as she walked away, heading to the shower again. She turned her head to the side in the doorway, profile to him, trying not to see the wounded look on his face, the exhausted naked body that she'd used and left behind. "Thank you."

She shut the door and in a moment he heard the shower running. That's right. Wash me off of you. Wash my seed out of you. Get the filth that I am far from you.

Spike rose and yanked his clothes on, even though he knew he wouldn't leave the room. If he did, Buffy would think she had won. Fucked him and thrown him out, made him run from her, building her isolated prison up brick by brick of broken promises and reasons to hate this world and flee it once more.

He was still covered in her sweat and juice, maybe even in blood, he couldn't tell, he was so intoxicated with her scent. He didn't know when the tears started, just saw them on his arm as he shoved it through his shirt. "Goddamn it!" He sobbed once and then picked up what was nearest to hand- the bedside lamp, and threw it with all his strength, unleashing a roar of hurt and grief. He shattered the mirror that hung on the opposite wall.

A dozen shards fell to the floor while another dozen remained in the frame. Doesn't matter, he raged bitterly, brokenly, looking straight at the mirror and seeing nothing. Doesn't matter. She'll never see me anyway.

Huddled inside the shower, scalding water half-drowning her, Buffy sobbed silently.


	4. Chapter 4

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive responses so far! _

_Serious monologuing to explain the thoughts of our heroes. Please be patient, the dialogue shall return!_

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part IV

Much later, when she couldn't hear anything in the room outside, Buffy finally opened the door to the bathroom.

"Slayer." He was standing directly in front of her. And his voice was bitter cold, matching his hard ice-blue eyes.

This is it. I pushed him too far, after all he did for me. He tried to keep me safe, tried to help me feel something, let me use him as a tissue and a punching bag, a babysitter, and a piece of meat. He'll kill me right now, and I deserve it._ I almost want it_... She remained silent, staring at him slightly open mouthed, defenses down. Just do it, Spike, fight the chip for five seconds and send me back home...

"I'm not leavin' you. Despite the things you do, Slayer, some of us stay. Maybe you think I've got my kinks, maybe I like the abuse. You believe what you like. I still love you, an' I don't run." He walked away from her, to the front door of their room. "I'm not leavin'. I _am_ gettin' the maid or a hoover an' clean up the little mess I've made." He wrenched the door open and called over his shoulder, "Watch your feet."

Buffy surveyed the floor. Glass of different types of everywhere. He must have been so hurt. So angry. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn't. Oh God. She sank down on the bed, hand worriedly running across her brow and through her soaking hair. "What'd I do to us?"

She shoved herself into some clothes, not caring how she looked. It was hours until they would leave for the agency, and even so, let her show up looking like a drowned rat, they'd paint her up and strip her down, make her look like something human for a few hours. She jumped as the door slammed open and her unwilling roommate shouldered in, smoking, ignoring her, and carrying a vacuum.

"Spike-"

"Can't hear you just now, Luv." He said, refusing to look at her, plugging in the vacuum, making an ungodly racket as sharp shards rattled and sucked up into the tubes. The machine complained and Spike sorted the problem with a vicious kick. Any overlarge pieces of glass he fixed with a stomp of one black booted foot.

"Spike-" she tried again as the vacuum died away as its plug was jerked from the wall.

"Gotta get this back. Nicked it from the cleaning cupboard." He walked away again.

But he'd be right back, Buffy thought. No, I don't _want_ that. I don't _need_ him to come back. "What have I done to us? What have I done to us?" She muttered, pacing, making up his bed, covering the evidence of their sin. Their sin? Was that how she thought about loving someone now?

Not someone,_ him_. And yeah, sex with a soulless vampire was probably right there on the top ten sins a slayer, or anyone, could commit. Swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand before tenderly smoothing the pillows and flinging the cover up over them.

His voice and his gentle touches flooded back to her as she touched the bedspread. All the things he'd tried to give her, to heal her. And what had she done? Wham, bam, thank you man, and left him lying alone and vulnerable. Because vampires aren't vulnerable, dammit! She looked at the few shards of mirror clinging to the frame as she finished making the bed. Shattered, fragmented images of haunted green eyes. Vampires aren't vulnerable? Isn't that like saying Slayers aren't vulnerable? Like that stupid "work alone" idea? She didn't fit the given mold. Why should he?

"My God. I think I hurt him for real. What have I done to us?" She whispered, finally noticing that she kept saying "to us". That was insane, there was no "us" in the relationship. There was no "relationship" in the relationship. There was him and her, working side by side, saving the world, grieving together, and comforting each other... Shit. That was an "us" if one existed.

He slammed into the room a second time, shoving his wallet back in his pants as he came in. "Paid for the damages up front. Know I'm s'posed to be evil an' all, but didn't want to cause trouble and get us chucked out, make a bad job of the modeling agency thing." He walked to the fridge and got his second jar of blood, only half full.

"Spike, please listen to me." Buffy tried once more. He didn't stop her, nor did he respond. He shoved the jar in the microwave and pressed a button. "I-" And words froze. It was so hard to talk if you didn't even know what to say.

Spike yanked the door open, sending a spark as he grabbed the blood out. "I'm listenin'." He turned to her for a brief glance. Damn. She looked so beautiful and so heart broken. It would be the easiest thing in the world to pretend they didn't need to talk and they could just put it behind them. Go to her and take her back to bed, comfort her and kiss the pain away- again. And look at her. More at a loss than two hours ago. Not makin' that same mistake- at least not until every last bit of resistance was gone.

"Please." She began, but that was all she managed.

"Look, Luv, it's a big hotel, and we've got a lot of hours to kill. I'm gonna go sit in the lounge and drink my blood." He poured it into the black ceramic mug provided alongside the coffee maker. "They've got a gym on the ground floor. Go get some of the violence out." He urged, but his voice was flat, a resigned sigh underneath each word. He walked away again, this time turning fully to face her. "But I'll be in this buildin' if you need me. You just call me, I'll hear you." He whispered. And he was gone.

I won't cry. I won't cry. Buffy pulled herself together slowly, coat on, shoes on, hair brushed. Leave this room. Leave it before you start thinking about how much he tried to love you and how much you were a _bitch_ to him. She walked to the gym, and stood uncertainly in the doorway. A muscular brunette smiled at her and she fled. No. I don't want the attention. I don't want to invest in anything new, it's too hard to even invest in things I've already got. She walked aimlessly around for a little bit, and caught sight of him in the darkest corner of the lounge off the lobby, staring blankly ahead of him, mug balanced on his knee, fingers idly drumming on his chest.

Tapping her heartbeat against the skin above his own deadened organ. How beautiful that sound was. He sped up the tempo. Yes, that was the rhythm of her heart when he made her cum on him. But y'see why it won't work, idiot? Feel that? Your heart doesn't beat back. He caught the scent of her and looked up. She was staring at him from across the room. He tightened his jaw. Don't smile. Don't look hurt._ She doesn't want me to put expectations on her? Fine, I won't._

He couldn't even spare her a glance. Buffy gulped and turned slowly. Back down the hall. Out the side door. Out in the sunshine. Where he can't follow you. Because you don't want him to, right?

It wasn't until about 10 minutes later that Spike realized he couldn't hear her unique heart beat or smell her unique scent- well other than on himself. You told her to find someplace in the hotel. It's a big hotel. Leave her be.

Dammit. He couldn't. Buffy wasn't like another human to him, not just a scent or a feeling to take notice of and forget. He could always feel her, if she was anywhere nearby. He had to be very distracted not to sense her. And right now, focusing on nothing but her, he couldn't feel her anywhere. He pulled himself to his feet and began a slow circuit of the hotel, every floor, every doorway- nothing. She'd left. Alone.

Dawn would stake him and he'd guide her hand, was his first thought once he realized that she was out alone. She's depressed, and he couldn't follow her, keep her out of harm's way. He couldn't run blindly around in the sunlight, without even a faint idea where she might go. That was asking for an ashtray sized apartment, and he wasn't going to risk it all on the strength that she'd gone off by herself. How many bloody times in the last few weeks had she ended up at his door, claiming she wanted to just be alone.

But, you stupid, blind, sod, she was always comin' to_ you_! You were the one she looked for, the one she wanted to be alone _with_. An' you're still in here- that means she doesn't have anywhere else to go. You pushed her away. So what if she pushed you away first? You're already dead an' no one but Bit'll care if you end up as dust. But Buffy- everyone needs Buffy. _And that's why she runs._

Spike sighed and returned to their room. He would have to wait, and hope that his little land mine was true to her completely unpredictable form, and come lookin' for him when she couldn't take it anymore. He sank down on his bed, wincing as their combined scents hit him. Just lie there. Take the hurt. God, his girl could sure dish it out.

Buffy had crossed the street to the shopping plaza. She had narrowly avoided getting hit by a little compact car, lost in her haze, but she was okay. She laughed inside her head. She was the Slayer. She doubted if the car would have killed her even if she just stood there and let it smash into her. And even if it had, what the hell? Willow'd have her up and out of heaven in a week. No, now that Spike knew what she was capable of- Spike would stop - Spike would stop her. He would let her rest. She might cut him to the quick, but he did love her. He would defend her, even after she'd ceased to be of this world.

She was in a men's wear shop and she didn't even know how she'd gotten there. She had a cup in her hand as well, she must have gone to someplace for lunch first. The shop assistant found her and brought her back to reality, making her realize a.) where she was, and b.) that she was hugging a stack of black shirts.

"Do you want all of those miss? Or just one particular size?"

"Oh- no. I don't need anything." Buffy slowly handed the shirts to him.

"We have a big sale going on, what does your guy prefer?" The clerk wheedled.

"I don't have a guy." She whispered, not meeting his eyes. The clerk, a rare one among his profession, ceased pressing and quietly left her side.

Buffy picked up the black shirts again. Just two this time. What was his size anyway? Guess a large, if it's too big, oh well, she could shrink things in the dryer, she was great at that, without even trying.

You can't buy Spike a shirt! What are you trying to do to him? Confuse him even worse? You can't just buy him a present if you hate him. _I don't hate him. I stopped hating him, sometime. I don't know when._ And- it isn't a present to make up for a fight. Because we don't need to make up. It's just that those modeling people will probably notice he only has one outfit if he keeps showing up in it. I'll just get him a shirt. I have money, there's a sale. I'll just be very calm, and explain that it's part of the job.

Buffy left, eyes blinking slightly at the receipt in her hand. Who knew jeans were so expensive? And she hoped that the nice shop assistant was right about guessing his size.

Spike was pacing when she came back in their room. She was touched at the look of relief that fled from his face in the space of time between her opening the door and shutting it. "Hi." She gave him a tiny smile.

"Hi." He didn't smile back, but his voice wasn't hard anymore.

"Here." She held out a bag, all her carefully thought out speeches dying before they processed from her brain into her mouth.

"What's this, Luv?" He looked cautiously pleased as he took the bag, and opened it. He slowly lifted the clothes and his eyes traveled slowly from her face to the shirt and pants in his hand.

"Do you like them?" She asked tentatively as his face closed over.

"No." His nostrils flared and he crumpled the clothes in a ball, shoving them down into the plastic bag.

"Are they the wrong size?" Buffy reached for them, disappointment on her face.

"No." He growled. His chest heaved and his eyes slitted. When he looked at her like that, it was hard to believe that he wasn't purely evil, Buffy realized. That face says "I will kill you before you blink." But he didn't. His hands curled into tight fists, and his voice shook with scarcely controlled rage as he spoke.

"You can't buy me off, Slayer. I know you realize that I have no pride when it comes to you. 'Cause I'm in love with you, an' I'm pretty much your heart's whippin' boy, yeah? But I'm not your whore just yet." He hurled the bag onto the floor.

"No, no. Spike! Please, it isn't like that." She touched his arm and he jerked it away. Her face crumbled slightly.

"Hurts, doesn't it Slayer, when something you want to touch doesn't want you on them?" He snarled, anger masking his own hurt.

"Yes. And m-maybe I deserve that. But listen, just for a second. The clothes- you need them. You only brought one outfit, and the agency will notice if you turn up in the same thing every day!" She explained desperately.

"Just business then?" He asked. She nodded frantically. "Good." He grabbed the bag back off the floor and yanked out the receipt, followed closely by his wallet. "Thanks for pickin' up my work clothes, then. Here's what I owe you." He shoved the money into her purse, reaching to her hip and unzipping her bag, seeing her flinch and not caring anymore. "I'm goin' out. Need a smoke. Need a long walk. Maybe a drink." He snapped open the locked snack and drink cabinet and took a miniature bottle of whiskey out of the compartment. "Do us all a favor, Slayer, stay in the room?" She nodded, too stunned to argue. "I'll be back soon's I clear my head." He stormed off before she could get back to her usual self and scream at him.

Buffy collapsed onto the bed. She dropped her purse off her shoulder and fumbled the notes into her wallet. Her breathing was ramping up, starting up like she was going to sob. But she couldn't let herself. Her head was just going to burst with all the tangle of thoughts. Which would end her pain, if it would just literally burst. All it did instead was whip into a maelstrom of sadness and upset that threatened to unhinge her.

I need to talk to someone. Someone who'd understand that she was confused- over her place in life, but also her relationship with Spike. That left out Xander and Giles. Willow, Anya, and Tara might be more understanding, but she couldn't talk to them about the 'torn out of heaven' part of the grief. Dawn! She would call Dawn. Dawn saw a different side of Spike, and she hadn't tried to bring her back, she seemed genuinely grieved once she'd realized that her resurrection hadn't been a rescue but a kidnapping. Buffy grabbed the phone like a lifeline and dialed.

"Summers' residence." Dawn's girlish tones were balm to her spirit.

"Dawn? It's Buffy."

"What's wrong?" Dawn demanded.

"Can't I call just to say hi?" Buffy demanded back, kicking herself for her contrariness.

"Sure. I just didn't think you would." Dawn's voice was pointed, but not angry. Buffy calmed.

"But something is wrong. I need to talk to you."

"Should I get someone? Giles, maybe? Are you in danger? Where's Spike?" Dawn's panic-meter went wild.

"No- no, listen! Please, Dawn, I just need to talk to you, only you, okay?" Silence. "Dawn?"

"You need _me_?" Dawn sounded pleased and incredulous.

"Yes! Of course, you're my sister, I always need you." Buffy assured. More silence, followed by a trembling squeak.

"I didn't think you'd ever need me again."

"Oh, Dawn. I have a really, really bad problem right now, and that's part of it." Buffy started talking. She knew her little sister probably couldn't grasp half of the things she was saying, about feeling like you shouldn't be back on earth, back with your family, wanting it to be over. But Summers women are strong and surprising, as both Spike and Giles had often said.

"Buffy- of course I know some of that feeling. Not all of it. But don't you think I felt it, when you died and I survived? Watching everyone breaking down around me, knowing it was my fault? I wished every day that it had been over- for me. So you could be here where everyone wanted you, and I could be with mom. Someone who actually loved me." Dawn's voice became tearful.

"Sweetie." Buffy's voice was just as tremulous. "I love you. I have a hard time showing it, but you- I still feel it." Buffy felt a spark of hope flicker to life inside her as she realized just how much she meant it. That for the first time in weeks she wasn't going through the motions and saying whatever she was expected to say in front of her family and friends. "When I get home, we'll talk. We'll talk about- everything. Like sisters should."

"I'd like that." Dawn smiled. "And you know, I know you have issues with him, but you can talk to Spike like this. He's a super good listener- Buffy? What's wrong? Are you crying again?"

"I hurt Spike." Buffy confessed, waiting for her sister's loving reassurance that it would be okay or that she was just imagining it. It didn't come.

"You WHAT? Hurt him as in staked him hurt him or hurt him as in beat him up hurt him?" Dawn sounded frantic.

"Like as in I hurt his heart." Buffy corrected. But that was an unfortunate choice of words.

"You staked him? You staked him, why? Why, why Buffy?"Dawn sobbed hysterically.

"NO! Dawn, he's fine. He's having a cigarette and a long walk. I- I kissed him last night. I kissed him a lot, and then I told him it didn't mean anything and I left him alone- and he loves me."

Dawn managed to stop her crying in a few shaky gasps and then tried to make sense of things. "You kissed Spike? I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't! I don't like him. Or- I'm not supposed to..."

"But you do anyway? I get that. He's nice. He loves you. He's a good friend. It's okay if you love him."

"I don't love him, Dawn, I can't love him! He doesn't have a soul!"

"Well- neither do I." Dawn pointed out.

The wheels screeched to a halt in Buffy's head. Her sister had a soul. She must have. She was human. "You're human. You have a soul."

"Well, Spike's a human. He doesn't have one." Dawn pointed out reasonably.

"But he was born a human and turned into a vampire- he lost his soul then. You were made into a human, soul included!"

"Okay. Well, I didn't _used_ to have a soul. And we know the monks made me human- but you can't see a soul. How do we know it's really in there? I was some glowy cosmic nightlight, Buffy. And now, maybe I do have a soul. Spike used to have a soul, and now he doesn't." Dawn paused, deliberating whether or not to share something with Buffy. "Y'know, one time I told him that I was sure I was evil."

"Oh, honey-"

"No, that was a long time ago. You know what he said? He told me I wasn't. And I told him that okay, maybe not, but I didn't think I was something good. He told me he wasn't something good either. Not good, not bad, but he did okay. He taught me it's the choices you make that make you good or bad. He's a good man."

"He isn't a man." Buffy cursed her stubborn tongue, but after so many repetitions, it was an automatic refutation.

"Why, cause he's a vampire? He looks like a man, he acts like a man. I'm not a girl, Buffy, not really, but doesn't everyone keep telling me I am? Which rules are you gonna play by?"

Buffy mulled in silence. "How'd you get so smart?"

"Brainy big sister and cool babysitters." Dawn chuckled.

"You know- I bet you're only doing this because you like Spike so much."

"Yeah. Duh! But so what? I can still be right."

"I hate it when you're right. I'm the big sister. I get to be right. It's a law." Buffy pouted.

"What can I say? I'm a rule breaker."

Buffy groaned. "You're even starting to sound like Spike!"

"Give him a chance. He's not all good Buffy, but he loves you. Isn't love good?"

"Yes. But Dawn... don't get mad. I don't really think Spike can 'love' like we do."

"Yeah, but you're stupid about love." Dawn said easily.

"Excuse me? Did you just call me stupid?"

"Yeah. You are. Kinda. You don't want guys to hurt you, so it's easiest to say they don't love you, or you don't love them. I know. I watched you do it to Riley."

Buffy chewed her nails. A few hours left until the photo shoot. But Spike might be back any second. No time to continue this philosophical discussion on the pertinence of souls, humanity, and love. "You think _I _can't love?"

"No, I think you're waiting to love someone else. Because you figure someone out there is completely perfect for you. Remember what mom used to say?"

"No staking in the house?"

"Not that, dummy. 'There is a Mr. Right for everyone, but there's no Mr. Perfect'."

"Okay, Dawn, I'm willing to give in on a lot of stuff, but are you saying Spike is my Mr. Right?" Buffy sounded deeply disgusted.

"I don't know. I just know you ain't gonna find Mr. Perfect." Dawn lowered her voice. "But you won't know if he could make you happy if you don't let him have a chance."

"I- I think, maybe - very, very, _very maybe_, I might give him that chance- if I could only talk to him. But I can't. I've tried three times today, and all that happens is badness."

"Why don't you try writing to him? Write down what you feel? I do it. It helps." Dawn suggested.

"I don't have a journal with me. And even if I did-"

Dawn interrupted, "I bet there's paper in the hotel room somewhere, Usually with the Gideon Bibles. And not a journal! Just- a note. A nice note. Tell him you're sorry and you were a bitch and you're trying harder."

"Mouth!" Buffy yelped. "Okay- I'll give it a try if I find any paper. Thank you, Dawn, you're a good sister." She felt her next words flow out easily, and she was relieved. "I do love you."

"I love you, too. And I love Spike. _Please_ tell him for me?"

"I will." Buffy swore.

Spike nursed his little bottle of Jack and his miserableness for almost an hour. There was very little walking in his "long walk", but he cleared his head plenty. The girl brought you home an outfit. She got her head out of her ass long enough to even think of you. Bollocks to the reasoning, she's made an effort. Piss poor effort after using you, but think back- you've used her so many times. Hurt her, kidnapped her friends, beaten her up, insulted her- d'you wonder she has trouble trusting you? She can hardly talk to Bit, who worships her and is sweet as you please, _well, as far as Buffy knows_. Are you surprised she can only halfway open up to you? An' you said you wouldn't leave, but here you are, been gone an hour. He launched himself out of his chair, tipping his empty miniature over and startling an elderly gentleman dozing under his newspaper. She'll never stop treatin' the world like her enemy unless you prove that someone can be counted on.

Spike came to the room, knocking and calling "Buffy?" softly. Buffy shoved the little stationary pad down into her lap as she called for him to come in. She cast a nervous glance at her writing. It was her fifth or sixth attempt and it still sucked.

"I need a soda!" She said as Spike opened his mouth in greeting. "But- I'll be right back." And she bolted.

"Bloody woman." Spike rubbed his head tiredly. He sank down into the chair she had just vacated at the desk. "I come in, she goes. She comes in, I go. It'll be a bleedin' miracle if we can stay in the same space long enough to get the soddin' shoot done." He looked around idly, searching for the remote.

Crumpled papers caught his eye. One beside the chair, one beside the wastepaper basket. He peered into the trash and saw three or four more pieces. Dawn's the writer. Dawn's the writer, Buffy's not one for sittin', she's all action. "Oh hell!"

Spike dropped to his knees and grabbed two of the closest crumpled balls. She wouldn't even leave a note, she'd just jump, his voice worried, but he smoothed the paper on his knee instead.

_"Dear Spike,_

_ Please forgive me for the way I acted this morning. Well, for a long time actually-"_

He blinked. The letter ended there. And he was shocked. The Slayer asking him for forgiveness? With mounting panic he grabbed the next piece.

_"Spike,_

_ I don't know how to talk to you after what we did. I'm really trying and I suck at this. Please don't think that-"_

Did you take time to make a half dozen drafts of suicide notes? Not if you were Buffy, no. This was about something else. Hungrily now, he grabbed a third sheet from the wastepaper basket.

_"Spike,_

_ Sometimes I do stupid things. This morning was one of them. But not because of you. Because of how I acted after. And maybe during. I don't think I can-"_

He pressed the letters to his chest for a second before tossing them heedlessly aside and flying from the floor. "Where's the soda machine?" He muttered. Yeah, right like she was really goin' there, pillock. He sniffed hard and caught her scent nearby. End of the hall. Oh, actually near the soda machines. Not playin' games, that was promisin'. "Buffy? Don't run alright, Luv? Tired of this ring around the rosy." He rounded the bend and into the alcove. She was sitting, knees up to her chest in front of the ice machine. He smiled softly and she gave him a muted grin in return. He sat down beside her, heaving a deep sigh and stretching his legs out, hands on his stomach as he languidly turned his head to look at her. He decided to go for broke, and reached over and took her hand. She didn't yank it back or slap him off. This was progress. "Thanks for my new togs, Pet."

"You're welcome." Buffy leaned towards him slightly. "I, um, tried to find something nice. But I never shopped for a guy before."

"You did fine. Love 'em. Love you."

"Spike, I-" She winced, a spasm of pain on her face. Spike's whole body tensed, all of him praying that she'd drop the words he wanted to hear.

But no. It wasn't meant to be done to meet an expectation, nor forced out. And obviously shouldn't be painful. To say you loved someone. Of course, that wasn't the case with him, it had hurt like a stab in the gut to confess he, the Big Bad, loved his sworn enemy. But it shouldn't be that way for her. "Shh. When you're ready, Luv."

Her chest unclenched as her lungs unfurled a laugh. Her eyes sparkled with gratitude, and to Spike, the sound of her laugh and the look in her eyes was like a little promise of things to come.

"C'mon." He got to his feet and stretched out his hand to her, pleased with the way she took it unhesitatingly. "Did you eat?"

"Milkshake." She said, dimly remembering that she had stopped in some fast food place across the street. "And maybe a burger?"

He laughed. "Well, _Passions_ is on. Fancy an episode?"

"No." She admitted after a moment's internal struggle. She was trying to be nice, but she couldn't stomach that.

"Alright then." He led her down the hall, waiting for the moment when she would realize that her hand was still laced with his. "We'll do something else."

"We've got money, now. We can play poker again. But not for keeps." Buffy looked up at him with a goofy smile.

"I prefer the way we played the other night, at least when I'm playin' you." He teased, taking her hand and smile as a cue that things might be moving towards friendly.

"Perv." She teased back.

"Only for you." He didn't mean to say it so seriously, he'd meant to sound humorous, flattering, charming at the most.

"Spike-" She began.

"No, Luv, no rush. I wasn't being serious." He bluffed.

"Oh." She looked up with a tiny pout. "I was going to say maybe we could do that later?" His jaw dropped. She laughed and pulled him into their room. "Let's play for money first, I wanna get good before I play for something I really want..."

She wants me. Really, Spike thought to himself. But no, I should be careful. Don't they say the devil comes disguised as a beautiful woman? Probably waiting to tear your heart out... She sat down on her bed and looked up at him with green eyes much more alive than they had been in weeks. Christ, she's a beauty. _I'm a vampire. I can deal with the devil if need be._

"Fine, then." He got his duster out of the closet and took the cards from its pocket. He smiled as he sat across from her and handed her the deck, his heart going with it. "Deal, Luv."


	5. Chapter 5

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive responses so far! _

_This chapter dedicated to Idiosyncratic Delusions, iSage, Hannah the Bloody, and of course, Lithium Reaper, who found the art to inspire the piece._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part V

"Glad it's gettin' dark so early." Spike climbed onto the bike and Buffy struggled into her helmet. "Sun's sinkin' enough at least."

"Yeah, I'm glad you haven't burst into flames." Buffy laughed.

"I think that's one a' the nicest things you've ever said to me, Pet." Spike laughed as well and roared off.

One of the nicest things I've ever said to him is that I'm glad he didn't die a painful death? And he still likes me? Whoa. He's got issues. But Buffy didn't voice that remark. She'd had a nice hour with Spike, playing poker and watching the _Price is Right_, just mindless fun. Something she didn't associate with Spike, but she was glad for anyway.

"You havin' trouble with the helmet?" The agency was only a few blocks away, but he didn't take chances with his Slayer. She was too beautiful to risk, plus Dawn'd kill him. Must be a thing with the Summers women, all of 'em had that righteously violent streak.

"You didn't buy this just for me, did you?" Buffy called over the roar of the engine.

"No, only just bought it for Bit." He explained. And the word "bought" was a little exaggeration.

"I never saw it before."

"Kept it at my place. She's stopped goin' for rides with me. Or almost stopped. She's come over a few times, but mostly, she wants to be near you." He paused. Things had been going well so far, might as well keep playing with fire. "Feel the same way myself." She didn't say anything but she hugged him closer than was strictly necessary for safety on the back of the bike. He felt himself harden and cursed. She was all kittenish and playful now, but she wasn't magically better. He didn't want to get his hopes (and his manhood) up, only to find out that she'd spurn him tonight.

Buffy was thinking the similarly physical thoughts as Spike pulled into an alley near the agency. They would walk the rest of the way. She got off the bike and fell into step beside him. When she was close to him, physically close like on the back of the bike, she got wet. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the engine racing right under her, or maybe it was knowing she was turning him on. Maybe it was left over impulses that came when she was close to him, because in the past, Spike being near had meant "time to fight", and fights always got her blood pumping. It was only when she fought _him_ that other juices started pumping as well.

Is it wrong to sleep with him again, if I don't pull away and treat him like I did today? If I can maybe try to see him as human, or at least a vampire who's able to act human? She'd have to talk to him about it. And she was desperately trying to avoid talking about anything serious, hence her frantic letter writing attempts.

"Williams and Summers." Spike announced to the receptionist at the desk. The agency seemed much more quiet today, almost eerily quiet. And the "something's wrong here" vibe was stronger than ever before.

"Oh, yes. Third floor. Wait, you need to be buzzed up." The receptionist gestured to the chairs lining the walls of the lobby,

Buffy sat, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. "What's wrong, Luv?" Spike hissed.

"Major bad tingliness." She whispered.

"Yeah, I got that, too." Spike nudged her suddenly and they stopped talking. Melissa, the woman they had so briefly met, was coming down the hallway, carrying a few folders that they both recognized at personnel files for the models. She didn't talk to or look at anyone, just plowed determinedly up the stairs.

"She had files." Buffy said through the corner of her mouth.

"Then we better talk to Rupes tonight and get some information, Buffy, 'cause if Mrs. Wicked's goin' through the files, I'm betting she's lookin' for victim number seven."

"I know." Buffy nodded. Her hands resumed their nervous unclenching and clenching.

"Don't worry, Slayer, we'll stop her." Spike reassured.

"I'm not worried about that. I mean, I am. But also I'm- nervous about the shoot."

"What's to be nervous of?" Spike asked, brushing one knuckle lightly on her knee. She gave him a wide eyed stare.

"Do you remember the whole 'towel-instead-of-a-shirt' thing from yesterday?" She demanded in a hiss.

"Yes." I got to feel your beautiful little body on mine for the first time, how could I forget it?

"Well- what if they ask me to take off more?" She looked over her shoulder, as if afraid her admission of nerves would give her away as an impostor.

"We won't do the shoot." Spike shrugged. "You're not gonna be put on display if you're not for it, Luv."

"I'm not gonna risk letting someone die because I have to walk around in my undies."

"Then you'll do what they ask you to, right? So what's to be nervous of?" He repeated, and she blushed faintly. "Not me, Pet? I've seen what you've got, and I think it's beyond beautiful."

"But when you look at me- are you gonna see how I acted today, or just how I look?" She didn't want the strain of the bad memories, and she hoped for a nice, fully clothed, completely non-romantic pose.

"I'll see _you_, Buffy. I love you, what you look like and how you act." He gave a slightly callous laugh and leaned closer still, whispering "You acted like a right bitch to me yesterday an' today. An' if you were payin' me back for my old ways, that's fine, Luv. I earned it in spades." He leaned back and sighed, puffing out air, his lips curling delectably, like he was letting out a mouth full of invisible smoke. Buffy stared at those lips and tried to bring her wandering mind to heel. "Shall we try startin' over now?" Spike turned his head lazily back to her.

"I treat you like you treat me?" She asked suspiciously. Can I do that? I get the urge the punch him nearly as much as I get the urge to kiss him...

"Like I've _been_ treatin' you. How I've acted towards you and yours."

Dawn's words came flooding back to her. It isn't so much what you have in the way of a soul or humanity, it's how you act. "I can't promise. You know that. You know if I try too hard, I just shut down."

"You're right, Luv, you take it easy, get there in your own time." He sighed.

"I didn't say I wouldn't try." She smiled bravely. If Dawn can do this, I can do this. A small voice reminded her, "You know Dawn is an immature teenager, right?" But her more positive voice countered, "Dawn made sense today, even if it hurts to admit that your little sister is the one to teach you something so important."

"You two can come up!" Rob walked past them, leading three others, all of them carrying large, realistic boulders and rocks. "Follow me. You're doing a jewelry job."

"That sounds very posh." Spike winked at her. Buffy nodded, and sighed in relief. No clothes off, as well as an excuse to stop thinking so hard.

They followed the men up to the third floor. As soon as they were shown to the room they'd used yesterday, Rob told them to take their time dressing, because they were '"building the set" next door.

"I've got _shorts_! Ruddy shorts!" Spike cried as soon as they were left alone and he had a chance to examine his pile. Buffy ignored him, staring at her own assortment of clothes.

"You're lucky." Buffy closed her eyes and lifted up a black corset top and matching underwear with garters.

"Jesus Christ." Spike felt himself go completely, utterly hard. And she wasn't even in the soddin' outfit. "I thought they said jewelry."

"Oh, there are jewels." Buffy tossed the black garments away with a disgruntled frown. "Huge necklace, and ooooh, look. Shiny things." She held up a jewel case with three thick white gold bands, the center one sporting a huge diamond solitaire. "Do you have anything?"

"Strappin' white gold watch." Spike exclaimed, lifting the heavy piece out of its box. "With diamonds on the outside. That's a bit of a poof watch, if you ask me. Besides. Vamp. Not big on needin' a watch to tell the time." Spike frowned at the rest of his ensemble though. "Rolled up jean shorts, waist coat, white button down shirt- this whole ad is aimed at poofters, Luv. You're just the window dressin' to make it appeal to the real men."

"The way they'll arrange it, we'll look great." Buffy smiled at him with false confidence. "Besides- you could make any outfit look very masculine."

Spike paused and licked his lips. He was certainly having issues with controlling something that would make his outfit seem outrageously masculine. "Luv, could you- maybe not put that on yet?" He whispered as Buffy held the top up to herself to see the size.

"What's wrong?"

"Guy thing, alright?" He said testily.

"Sorry!" She felt a flash of irritation and then rebuked herself for it. "You go ahead, get changed first. I'll- I'll take a quick walk up and down the hall, see if I can find Melissa's office or catch sight of her."

"Be careful." He advised and she nodded.

Buffy skulked around the hallway, happily undisturbed, listening at each doorway. Now, if I were an ancient evil sorceress or something, where would I be? She pondered, and started tiptoeing to the farthest end of the hall where one door caught her attention. She only got halfway there before she heard Rob's braying laugh. "Dammit!" She hissed, and raced back. "Spike?"

"Come in." He opened the door.

And she couldn't even take a step forward. The shirt was hanging open, the vest on over it, the blend of navy blue and cream creating a striking contrast with his moon white chest. The open shirt beautifully accented the midline of his torso, showing each little definition. Each smooth, perfect line... Buffy stared dumbly at him.

"You wanna come in, Luv?"

"I love that shirt." Was all she could say as he pulled her in and shut the door behind her.

"Glad you do. I don't. Soddin' thing has no buttons! What kind of shirt doesn't have buttons?"

"The kind you leave open to show off your chest." She stared stupidly once more.

Spike tilted his head as he looked at her, just staring at him. Not a Slayer thing to do- at least not acting like she enjoyed what she was seeing. "Okay, Pet, flatterin' as that is, I'm worried. You get coshed on the head out there?"

"Huh? Oh, no. I got almost all the way down the hall, and the very last door has another security system box. That has to be Melissa's office."

"So, what's the plan? Try it tonight?"

"You want to?" Buffy looked at him breathlessly.

"The human with the demon vibe, Luv. The plan for _her_. Try somethin' tonight? " He curled his tongue behind his teeth, loving how she was starting to hear innuendos that weren't even there.

"Oh." Buffy looked embarrassed and shook her head. "I need to talk to Giles first, then maybe."

"Your call." He said with a self-satisfied grin. She wants another taste. Mmm, an' so do I. Wonder if she wants it enough to-

His lustful reverie was interrupted by the sound of fabric rustling. Buffy was picking up her clothes for the shoot and heading behind the clothing rack. She didn't ask him to turn around, but he did anyway.

"Where's this ad going to appear, _Playboy_?" She grumbled, draping her own clothing over the rack.

"You see things like this, Luv. They have two naked people rollin' on the beach and one of 'em has sunglasses on an' suddenly it's a sunglasses advert. You see some bird with half her clothes off but with her shoes on an' you're lookin' at a shoe ad. That's the way it works, I guess. Sex sells whatever you want 'em to buy."

"Well- I-" Buffy grunted as she tried pulling the black corset into place. "don't- like it." She looked down. "Actually this isn't so bad. It's more like a tank top. If tank tops had lacy black patterns on the sides and top, and satin panels in the middle."

"Whatever you say, Pet." Spike kept his voice even, tried to keep his thoughts distracted. Buffy. Lacy patterns. Satin. Bugger, he was a goner.

"Like a tankini, really." Buffy said comfortably as she slid on the matching high cut underwear, which still left a hand width gap between her top and bottom. She ran a hand over her smooth stomach and winced. This was the hard part. Garters. She never had gotten a chance to wear lingerie. Well, she had a few silky short night gowns that she had worn with Riley. But to her, those felt like any other piece of clothing. She strongly suspected it was her attitude towards wearing them. It didn't seem special, she realized with regret, because the love making was great and comfortable, but not- special. So the garters intimidated her, as well as the whole outfit seeming foreign to her. And in the back of her mind a little voice niggled, imagine if you were wearing this for Spike. _For_ him, not just happened to be wearing it in front of him.

"Grr!" Buffy let out a frustrated noise after a few minutes.

"What's wrong?" Spike turned to face her this time, figuring he was already a lost cause picturing her in his mind, he might as well go all the way and give his eyes a treat.

"Nothing!" She grunted again, right before she toppled over. "Oh yeah. That was graceful."

"D'you need some help?" Spike asked hesitantly, trying not to laugh.

"I can't ask you to help me with this, it's women's lingerie related." Buffy clawed her way off of a pile of discarded clothing and popped her head back over the rack.

"Luv," Spike cocked his scarred eyebrow at her, "was with one woman for a century. You think I can't find my way around some hooks and catches?"

"It's not hooks and catches, it's the stupid clip-y things at the back of the garter belt. I'm not bendy enough."

"You? Not bendy enough? Not a possibility, Slayer. If I hadn't seen with my own eyes how much backbone you've got, I would swear you've got a rubber spine. Now, be a good little superhero an' let me help you with your knickers."

"It's not my knickers!" Buffy yelped as he suddenly pushed the clothing rack away. "It's the belt." She concluded lamely as Spike came up to her.

Maybe she won't notice I can't keep my hands steady, Spike thought as he knelt. An' it's not me bein' weak. No. No, I bet no man could keep himself all steel nerved and calm if he saw the woman he loved wrapped in this piece of black confectionary.

"What are you doing?" She sounded nervous, almost frightened, retreating two steps.

"Helping. An' that's all. Jus'- I know it's hard, but try to remember the good parts of today and yesterday. Did I give you any reason not trust me?"

"No." She admitted, and slowly turned her back to him. She craned her head to try and peer down behind her as she gestured. "See? The clip-y thing? It won't reach the stockings right."

"These things went out of fashion years ago." Spike commented, and put his hands on her waist. She gasped and he looked up at her. "Least outside of the bedroom." With a firm tug he shifted the whole thing, sliding it around. "Now try it, Slayer." He got back up and tried not to laugh out loud at her startled and annoyed expression.

"You mean I had the whole thing on wrong?" She cried.

"Not wrong, Luv, just off to the side." He walked, somewhat more painfully than usual, over to the chair in front of the makeup table and sat down. Buffy was still muttering and generally berating herself for not realizing the simple solution to her problem. "I take it you and the agent weren't much on the creative wear?"

"Shut up." She fired back.

"Right. Not helpful." He stopped talking, but couldn't stop his amused smile from surfacing. Dear, dear, whatever would the enormous hall monitor say if he saw Buffy in this tasty little risque number? Probably something white bread and unappreciative, along the lines of "Take that thing off!". Spike paused to consider that. Well, yeah. That's what I'm thinkin' as well...

Rob breezed in, knocking as he entered. Buffy glared at him. "Right! Sorry, you two are the skittish ones!" He laughed.

"I'm not skittish, mate, just don't think you should walk in on a lady without an invite." Spike ascertained. He winked at Buffy, who shared a secretive smile with him, knowing full well he was referring to the fact that he was a rare vampire indeed, having earned an invitation to her home.

"Ladies, men, boys, girls, you're all just part of the art to me." Rob swirled Spike's chair around and pushed his head back unceremoniously. "I hope you like eye makeup." He grinned.

"Not keen on it, but there was a time-" Spike realized he couldn't properly tell him about his late 70's, early 80's look at the same time Rob cut him off.

"Not you, her! You're the clean cut male, and she's the seductive temptress in this one."

Buffy and Spike glanced at each other and then burst out laughing. Spike just let his head go back and his whole body convulsed, whereas Buffy laughed so hard she doubled up, and had to sit down, clutching her stomach. Rob just looked at them like they'd lost their minds.

"Y-you? Clean cut?"

"Temptress?" Spike howled.

"Spike of the Good Guy Squad?" Buffy wiped her eyes as tears formed.

"Got us mixed, haven't they?" Spike's shoulders sagged as he heaved out one more laugh, and then gave himself over to the annoyed makeup artist.

"You two might have great chemistry," the short man muttered, "but you're pretty crazy. You'd almost think you'd never done this work before.

"You just don't know us that well." Spike bluffed convincingly. Buffy watched him appreciatively. No wonder he was so good at poker.

"So what kind of set is it?" Buffy asked to break up Rob's train of speculation.

"Beach scene."

"Cliffside's not far from a beach, why not shoot this on location?" Spike threw in some jargon.

"Melissa Modeling doesn't do on location work. If we can't create it here, we send the job back." Rob dusted Spike all over with white body powder and then called for Ann. "Don't you just love that?" Rob gestured to the ensemble she was wearing.

"Not particularly." She mumbled and shut her eyes as he attacked her face with cosmetics.

"I bet Spike does." Rob joked.

"Ann's quite a dish in anything." Spike said, sliding the watch into his arm, the last piece of outfit now in order. His remark made Buffy smile and Rob bark.

"Hold still! You just smeared the lip liner."

"Sorry."

"Ergh! Stop talking!"

"Can I go take a look at this beach in a box you've made?" Spike sidled up to the connecting door, catching Buffy's eye to make sure she would be alright alone.

"Sure, Art might already be in there."

Art wasn't, so Spike took a quick look around. From the camera, this must look quite good, because to him, it looked like crap. A bank of fake turf with a gritty sand covering, flanked by two rows of black and gray boulders and rocks, gave the affect of a natural jetty, and a long backdrop of misty, sun streaked, blue sky. "Rubbish clothes and rubbish scenery." He muttered, digging into his pocket, then realized his smokes weren't going to be in there. Oh, well. Best get back to Buffy. Didn't like leavin' her with that annoyin' midget.

"-with dark, luminous eyes. There you go! Look at you, you're gonna break hearts." Rob was concluding Buffy's makeup and a sentence as Spike returned.

"Really? That's great. I'd love to see." Buffy stood up, wobbled in the black heels that were too large for her, and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "Where's a mirror?" She asked innocently. Spike laughed inside his head. Trust her to get the job done, even in her Parisian brothel wear and her idle rich jewels.

"Mirrors are for the insecure and unconfident." Rob snapped. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, not the person itself, so what does it matter what you see? It's what _we _see. Go on over- Art should be there by now." And he walked quickly from the room.

"Ask a simple question." Buffy sighed, and wobbled again. "Stupid shoes."

"You've got such little feet, Pet, that's all." Spike caught her elbow.

"That was some argument he made." Buffy mused.

Spike didn't like her contemplative tone. The girl spent far too much time worrying about what others thought, and hardly any on what _she_ thought and felt. "I'm more concerned about that last remark. That doesn't ring true, so don't you believe it. It _is _what's inside a person that makes them beautiful, not just what the world can see."

"Thinking about yourself?" Buffy's smile was slightly cool, and Spike's eyes hardened.

"Maybe. Yeah. You an' I are supposed to look one way to the world. You're s'posed to be pure good, I'm s'posed to be pure bad. Truth is, we're just-" He wanted to say human, but he knew what song that'd start. And he wasn't in the mood for the ol' "You're not human, you're a monster, you can't love" tune.

"We're just people?" Buffy supplied.

"Exactly! It's how we act that shapes how people see us. At least, that's what I think." His petite partner didn't say anything so he decided to cut his losses and leave the subject. Buffy wasn't much for philosophy these days, more in a survival mode. He had his hand on the doorknob of the connecting room, Buffy hanging onto his arm, when he felt her fingers tighten. "You wanna just take the shoes off until they pose us?"

"No, I'm good." Buffy cleared her throat softly. "I talked to Dawn today."

"Oh? Good, that's nice." He was thrilled inside. After talking to Dawn last night he was worried that the sisterly relationship was falling farther and father apart. "How is she? What'd she say?"

"She told me to tell you something."

"Yeah?" Spike turned to face her fully, caught by the strangely grave, hesitant tone of her voice.

"She wanted me to tell you that she loved you." She murmured, eyes not meeting his.

"Oh." Spike looked at his feet uncomfortably. "Thank you for passin' that on. I'll tell her it's mutual when we call tonight." He suddenly looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks for tellin' me that, Buffy. Know how you feel on the subject."

"You're welcome." Buffy struggled for words after that. Wouldn't it be nice to just say she was reconsidering her opinion on the subject, or that "her eyes had been opened", something nice and poetic, or simple and straightforward? But no, this is me, and Spike, and damned if anything will ever be simple. How can I want him so bad, and feel so safe and comfortable with him, but if I try to use the words love, or trust, I feel like someone's shoving me back in my grave? Can't I love or trust anyone anymore?

"I love Dawn, too!" Buffy said suddenly. "I do, I love her, and I told her today, and it didn't hurt- much."

Spike put his arm around her hastily and squeezed quickly before withdrawing it. "That's the way! An' I bet Bit was so happy. Did she do the squeal or the sniffle?"

"The sniffle." Buffy laughed and they walked in together, with her looking up at the being, amazed that someone with so much darkness and violence in him had taken the time to learn so much about a girl he had no obligation to. He started out doing it for me, but now he loves Dawn. Dear God. I think I believe that. And if he can love Dawn...

"I'm so sorry to be late! Dinner break, you know." Arthur came in as they did, but clearly thought they'd been waiting. He cast a critical eye over the pair and then was off like a whirlwind.

"Spike, you're here, lie down, half way, prop yourself up on this rock- watch out it's actually pretty light, don't lean. Let me see the watch- yes, good, roll up your sleeve, no push it up, I want to see some bunching- not to the elbow- there." Art fussed over Spike for about five minutes, leaving Buffy standing awkwardly on the edge of the sandy floor, feeling exposed and wondering nervously about how she looked. Was everything covered? What if her butt was hanging out of these panties, would Spike have told her, or would he be too busy admiring the view?

"Ann, hmmm. Let's lose the shoes. I'm going to keep this pretty much a torso shot, that's where all the jewelry is."

"Thank you!" She said gratefully and hopped out of the heels. Art told her to sit between Spike's legs, and then he proceeded to move Spike's knees to create an air of casual elegance, "the playboy lounging at his beachfront home, in his designer vest and costly watch, and above all, his arm candy." Art smiled and gestured to Buffy.

"That's you, Ann. You're his guilty pleasure, walking out to the beach with him in that outfit. You're every man's fantasy like that."

Art's words gave her a mental image to go with, but she didn't feel it. So, he's saying I'm a beachfront hooker? was her predominating thought.

"You're my fantasy in anything." Spike whispered softly against her ear.

"Put your head back up!" Art ordered, but Spike's words had already warmed her. Her eyes softened and her face cleared.

Art seemed about to wet himself in excitement. "Yes! Yes, that's the look, right there, no one move! It's perfect!"

Spike's eyes had been blazing and his face devoid of much emotion when he looked up at Art's order to reposition his head, and Buffy's face had a wistful, relaxed innocence come over it after hearing Spike's words. The contrast was perfect, Art rhapsodized. "Cool, somber, collected. A man in power- tilt the watch to me- good. And Ann, rest your hand on his, head all the way on his chest, yes! You're his too, a beautiful thing that he loves and cares for, you look so relaxed and safe with him- Spike put your hand, your far hand, on Ann's as it rests on your knee. More of the rings, Ann- oh it's perfect!" Art sat back on his haunches and gave them a pleased smile.

"So... are we done?" Spike asked. Art laughed.

"No, I want a couple more in case they don't feel the same way I do in terms of perfection." Art thought for a moment. "Let's try a few things, Ann put your arm up and reach back to rest on his shoulder, Spike put your arms around her waist. Make sure the jewelry is facing the camera squarely." Art spent about 20 minutes taking photos and they posed easily. "You two seem much more relaxed today." Art commented.

"I had a good night's sleep last night." Buffy replied, realizing it was true, and remembering who had helped her keep the bad dreams away. She pressed herself more tightly to Spike, feeling his intake of air and the ever-present hardness twitch.

At last, Art seemed satisfied. "We have one more shoot. It should have been done today, but this beach stuff takes so long to set up and tear down."

"Yeah, I mentioned that." Spike remained seated after Buffy got off of him, trying to collect himself, or at least arrange himself so that her impact on him wasn't so obvious. "Cliffside isn't far from a beach. Why not just use the real thing?"

"What, at night? No, it wouldn't work. Lighting issues." Art smiled as he began rolling up the backdrop. "Make an appointment at the desk, we have one more job for you tomorrow."

Spike and Buffy changed quickly, back to back again, hurrying to get out of the place that seemed more and more suspicious. "Things don't add up. That isn't what Rob said about locations at all." Buffy remarked as she slipped relievedly back into her own clothes.

"No, and I got a creepy feeling like somethin' was watchin' us at one point." Spike said. "Right at the end, did you notice it?"

"Umm. No?" Buffy confessed sheepishly.

"Noticin' somethin' else, Luv?" He turned to face her and ran his tongue over his lips, rocking his hips towards her slightly. She didn't answer in words, but her cheeks bloomed rosily and he laughed quietly. "If I hadn't been tryin' to distract myself from you, I wouldn't have noticed either."

Flattered, Buffy gathered up her bag and helmet and Spike pulled on his duster. "Gotta stop at the butcher. You want something not out of a paper carton tonight?"

"What, like actual green veggies and things not made with MSG? Sure." Buffy laughed.

Spike slapped his hand down on the counter again, making the receptionist jump. Buffy watched his face sparkle with mischief. He's bad- but not in a bad way. Does that make any sense? Probably not.

"Mr. Williams!" The receptionist twittered and handed them envelopes immediately. "You're the last ones today. And you were much quicker that Art figured. Do you need to set up something else?"

"One more, tomorrow night." Spike passed Buffy her pay.

"Oh, but surely you don't have classes tomorrow?"

"Church!" Buffy supplied quickly. "We're very, very religious types."

The matronly woman cast a look at the couple, particularly Spike in his leathers with his roguish face and devilish attitude. "Really?"

"Oh yes! See?" Buffy reached into her bag and pulled out a beautiful silver cross on a chain. "Never without my cross."

"An' I- think that it's too holy- to be worn as jewelry." Spike stumbled slowly over his words. "The artifact of our Lord- shouldn't even be touched by my- my unclean hands!" He summed up triumphantly. Buffy gave him a look coupled with a little miserable moan. "So. 4:00 then?" He turned back to the receptionist brightly.

"4:30. Have fun at church." She replied dryly and Buffy dragged Spike away.

"Real smooth, Mr. Olivier." Buffy grumbled.

"_You_ said church! You could have said we had work, or a brunch, or relatives visitin', but you said church! And then start wavin' around a cross! Took everything I had not to leg it for the door." Spike waved his arms in exasperation.

Buffy got on the bike behind him, and once seated, laid her helmeted head on his back and shook with laughter. "What now? Now what?" He demanded tersely.

" 'The artifact of our Lord- sh- shouldn't be touched by my unclean h-h-hands'." She struggled to say.

"You know there's truth in every jest. Besides, y'know you like my slasher wit."

"Oh, yeah, I just love being stuck with a horny vampire who's also a ham."

"Ah, ah, ah, Pet, what'd I just tell you about truth spoken in jest?"

"Shut up and let's get you some blood before you start getting lumpy in the forehead."

Spike pulled the bike into a space along a random street. "What are you doing? Can't we ever just bring the bike _to_ the place we're going?" Buffy moaned.

"Sure, Luv, if you fancy anyone observant connecting the two blondes who joined up at the modeling agency with a black motorcycle, only going out after dark, an' a penchant for blood."

"Would you stop being right? It's irritating."

"You said it! You said I was right, Slayer! An' you didn't die! Ha! I win." Spike did a little victory roar and a spin.

"Pest." She pouted, but smiled as he caught her eye with a boyish grin. "You have more life in you than a lot of actually alive people." Buffy told him suddenly.

"An' you're stiffer than a lot of properly dead people." Spike rejoined with a teasing smile.

"I don't know. Felt an awful lot of stiff around a certain dead guy recently." Buffy flirted and left him standing in the doorway of the butcher's.

"Hey!" Spike shouted and hurried in after her.

"I'm sorry they didn't have onion rings." Spike kicked the curb as he and Buffy stepped out of the small Italian restaurant. Family-style, of course, or else Buffy would never have set foot in there with him.

"It's okay. I liked my spaghetti and salad." She smiled. "And thank you for not making a big deal about me paying."

"Me? I'm a money-grubbin' bastard." He shrugged. "Delighted not to go throwin' it all away. I'm gonna be rollin' blood and smokes with this packet. Ohh, I might be able to bribe that crooked orderly at Sunnydale General, get some of the good-" Spike's voice died away as Buffy glared at him. "What? It's donated, I'm not attackin' anyone to get it."

"That blood is for sick people so they don't die!"

"An' it's for me so I _stay _undead." Spike retorted angrily. An' just like that, he thought, an hour of pleasant plottin' and talkin' about life has gone to hell, and we're back to where we started.

"I know." Buffy sighed and relented. "Well, at least you haven't set up a vampire brothel like -"

"Shh. That boy was a fool, Luv. Payin' to get bitten. I'd never do somethin' like that. Don't fancy bein' a plaything. Well- not just anyone's plaything." Spike cleared his throat as he realized they were heading into dangerous territory. More to change the subject than anything else, he pointed to the theater across the street. "Movie?"

"Spike..." Buffy looked up at him with pained eyes.

"No, I know. We don't date, you an' I. We don't do normal, although, God, Buffy, don't you think I'd like to just take you to a film for an evenin' and let you be a normal girl, an' I could be a normal bloke? I was just tryin' to get your mind off the pillock and his vampire trollop, anyway."

That was sweet. That he realized she missed normalcy, and that he didn't want her to dwell on Riley and his iniquities. "I just didn't feel like sitting the dark."

"You love the dark." He whispered, daring her to deny it.

"Not when you can't get out of it." She said, staring into his eyes unflinchingly.

"Point taken. Home, then?" He nodded once. But her feet didn't move. "Well come on, no movies tonight."

"Do you wanna take a walk with me instead?" She offered.

He nodded back slowly, and they set off together in silence.

They had a quiet walk. As Buffy pushed open the hotel lobby's door, she could count exactly the number of words they had exchanged. 18 and a half.

"Nice night." Two. "The blood won't go bad?" Five. "Are you gettin' cold?" Four. "Sky's so lovely." Three. "Yes, it is." Three. "What's th-" One and a half.

"Aren't you glad I bought you those new clothes?" Buffy asked, shaking out her coat.

"Even more glad I forgot to change into them before leavin'." Spike wiped off his mud streaked cheek. "Y'know, Buffy, with a name like Cliffside-"

"Yes! I get the irony. Cliffs. I didn't realize how close we were to the edge, okay?"

"I'm just glad you picked one of the little hilly ones to tumble down, not that big one over the river."

"There was a river?" Buffy asked in a tiny voice. "I am so not worthy of the Slayer name right now. I missed a hill _and_ a river?"

"Don't beat yourself up, Pet. If it'd been an evil hill or river you'd have killed it good an' proper." Spike laughed.

"I'm filthy. So are you. Ugh. I hate mud. I don't know which I hate more, mud or demon guts." Buffy took off her shoes as they walked gingerly into their clean hotel room.

"Demon guts. They stink to high heaven, at least this is just good clean earth." Spike looked sadly at his duster and draped it over the back of the chair. "I'll give it a good clean in the morning."

"It's all your fault." Buffy accused, shaking out her hair, and unknowingly wiping mascara across her cheek.

"And I quote, 'What's tha-' end quote. Buffy pulls Spike over large hill."

"You distracted me. You and your 'The moon is so lovely'."

"It is! It was a nice night." Spike said defensively, taking off his shirt and beginning to undo his belt.

"You're a vampire, you're not supposed to get all poetic!"

"You're the Chosen One, you're supposed to be able to 'sense' a 30 foot drop!" Spike yanked his belt through the loops and started unstrapping his heavy, mud encrusted boots. "We don't fit the mold, and I'm gettin' irked that you keep tryin' to force us into it."

Buffy silently conceded his point, and stared at him, hands frozen on the hem of her shirt, watching him undress.

He caught her staring and glowered. "You're not gonna start watchin' me like I'm about to rip your throat out again, are you Slayer? 'Cause you know I can't, an' I wouldn't if I could."

"You're taking your clothes off." She pointed out.

He looked down. So he was. "Well- you've already seen it. D'you want me to act shy? 'Cause I'm covered in mud, thanks to one very dense girl, an' I'm not feelin' all blushin' violet."

"You step on all the nice things I'm thinking!" Buffy suddenly lashed out. "I was admiring you, you jerk! And, what's more, seeing as how I _know_ I'm the reason we're both complete disasters, I was going to offer to let you go first in the shower!"

"Oh." Spike looked chastened. He fiddled with his belt buckle for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, Luv, it's just that- I'm used to you keepin' your claws out around me."

"I'm trying. I'm really trying. I promised I would try." Buffy reminded him gently, stepping towards him.

"You take the first shower." Spike offered an olive branch, also stepping closer, his fingers almost tingling at how close she was.

"No... you go ahead." She blushed, realizing her hands were kneading themselves, eager to be kneading that alabaster chest instead.

"That's very sweet of you, Precious." He purred, closing the distance and kissing her, loving that she opened her mouth and kissed him back. An erotic sound, a tense and frustrated sound, pulsed in her throat. "Is that a good noise?" He breathed, eyes closed, walking her backwards towards the bathroom door.

"No. Yes. I don't know, I- just keep doing it, okay?" Buffy begged, and he obliged. She squeaked as her back hit the door, and Spike's hands left her face and neck to shove it open. They stumbled backwards, not quite losing their footing, just off balance.

Spike kept kissing her, pawing her muddy pants down and her shirt up, feeling her fingers all over his chest and then into his waistband. He moaned softly and bent her with him to get the shower started. He daren't speak, afraid everything would vanish, that she'd run if she know how much he was treasuring it, how much he loved her.

What am I doing? I can't do this, I can't hurt him like this again. Why do I want to do this? Buffy tried to think through the haze of his kisses. This felt different from the last time, this felt like something she _wanted_ to do, not merely something she was desperately giving in to. But I want him so much, and I want to care, I want... other things I can't name, can't say, won't admit... She clung to his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the water start and the steam rolling over her. His hands pulling the hooks of her bra, and then his mouth moving from her lips to her tender nipple, still partially engorged from this morning's activities and being nervously aroused during their photo session. She opened her eyes with a gasp of pleasure-which turned into a gasp of dismay.

"Hmm?" Spike looked up, saw her frozen expression and eyes staring past him, over his shoulder. "What is it?" He quickly turned around.

The mirror. He wasn't there. His body didn't reflect, and in addition it obscured some of hers as he held her. Pieces of her weren't there. None of him was there. He isn't real. Am I real? Buffy stepped away from him, and even without him obscuring her, the steamed mirror only showed bits and pieces of her. _See? I'm still alone. Even when he's here with me._

Spike held her from behind as she walked to the mirror in a trance. "I know, Luv. You can't see me. Jus' 'cause you can't see me doesn't mean I'm not here, Pet. Can't you feel me?" He pressed his arms into her waist more firmly, pushing his hardness into the small of her back.

"I can feel a lot of things, Spike. Doesn't mean they're real. I want something I can hold onto, I want something I can see." Buffy peered harder in the mirror as she spoke in a queerly blank voice.

Oh no, not this again, not over before it started, not tonight, not when they'd made a start by the end of this long and awful day. He took his hand, looped it under hers and pressed his palm hard to the mirror. "See that?" He pointed to his palm print. "See it? Real enough for you? An' look," He grabbed her palm and forced it to mar the steam alongside his own impression. "You're the same as me. We're dead, yet alive. We're still here, we can still leave our mark, Luv." She nodded slowly, pressing her hand in again, and guiding his back as well. "We're in this realm together, Luv, whether or not we should be. We just have to get through." He breathed against her ear.

Buffy abruptly turned to face him, tired of hearing a voice in her ear, and feeling his body against hers when she couldn't see the reflection. But yes, they were both real and here. And that was the best you could get sometimes. She looked into his eyes, really looked into them, admitting they were "alive" and trying to make her own awaken as well. "You'll come back if I push you away?" She asked softly, and seriously.

"For at least a hundred years. Prolly more. I love you in a way that I didn't love Dru, an' I never left her side in over a century. I've got more reason to keep comin' back." He cupped her face, all soft and serious himself. "I love you, Buffy."

She didn't tell him not to say it, nor did she say it back. Instead she said "Spike" and let him pick her up and carry her into the shower, positioning her right under the stream. Dirty streaks washed off them, a muddy trail on white enamel, washing down a silver drain. Like the night she'd come back. When Dawn had helped her into the shower, taken her burial robes away. And she knew her little sister thought that it would all get better from there. Make her less like a corpse, restore her to the living. And it hadn't helped.

Spike felt her gaze traveling down, stubbornly unyielding chin pressing into the back of his shoulder as she watched the dirt trickle away. "It's only mud, Luv. Not from your grave. From a little tumble down a big hill. Don't think so much, Buffy. Try to just feel something good. An' before you say it, I know I'm not good. But I can damn well try to be good _to you_."

"I believe you try." She whispered, no hint of mockery in her voice. "You- you're a good man when I need you to be, Spike."

Too overwhelmed to speak, he let his body try to convey his gratitude. He pressed his lips to the side of her head tenderly, leaving them there. Wish I could heal your mind, he thought. Her legs dropped from around his hips, and their bodies lost the intimate contact, to his sorrow. Wish I could heal your spirit, wish I could heal your body- and I can't. But I can try, I can try to take care of you.

Spike grabbed the tiny bottle of complimentary body wash and snapped the cap off easily with his thumb, and dumped it down her back.

"Spike!" She yelped as the relatively cold (compared to the hot water) liquid hit her skin.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and began massaging it into her shoulders, using both hands, and looking determinedly at her, unspeaking, unsmiling.

"That feels-really good actually. Relaxing. I've never had a massage. Riley used to give me neck rubs, but this is sooo much better." Buffy's body relaxed and apparently her brain and mouth followed it. Spike smiled.

"Glad you like it."

Buffy pushed past his helping hands, and grabbed the bottle from where he had carelessly dropped it. She squirted a dollop on his chest and started mimicking his motions. They were both awkward, but the actions were enjoyable, and as yet, not overly sexual. His hands stayed on her back and shoulders, hers stayed on his chest and arms.

"You're right, Luv, this feels wonderful." Spike pressed himself closer to her. "Slippery though." She grinned up at him and pressed her gorgeous nudity flush to him and wiggled. "Christ, Buffy- don't do that- unless you want a problem on your hands." He had never lost his erection, but it wasn't begging for attention- at that moment. She backed away and fixed him with another half grin.

"You know what else?" Buffy's voice was lighter than it had been all evening, a modicum of trust and acceptance seeping past her defenses. He could be a good man. Or a good thing. Whatever. The key word was good.

"What else?" He laughed and started running his fingers through her slick wet hair.

"I've never taken a shower with anyone before." Buffy blushed, figuring lovers probably did this all the time. "You know, with the dorm, then mom and Dawn in the house, and Riley having the frat house, and then that little tiny -"

"You don't have to explain, Sweetlet. I've never had this pleasure either."

"You haven't?"

"D'you want me to go into the history of plumbing, Luv, or could you jus' take my words for it?"

"The second one." She laughed. "Thank you. This is nice, Bab- Spike."

"You can call me what you like, Buffy, you called me that earlier."

"I know." She assured him, not quite meeting his eyes. He let it go and went back to scrubbing her clean. She returned it, and bravely pushed her hands down, past his navel, past the sparse hairs under and grasped him, feeling him properly for the first time. Not rushed, not grabbing and slamming. Appreciating.

"You- you should stop that." He breathed, and his inner man, demon included shouted back a fierce denial. No! No, she should most definitely do that, do that and much more!

"Don't you like it?" She smiled cheekily.

"I love it." He took her wrists firmly. "But you- you need to be sure Luv, that you want to do more than just a friendly shower and few naughty games of cards. Touchin' me like that drives me mad for you, an' each time you push away..." He trailed off. "I'll still come back, but the hurt'll be deeper an' deeper. An' each time we'll have to try harder to mend our fences." He placed her hands off to the side. "I don't mind the friendlies, Pet. Just askin' you not to play with fire." An' God, I know she will anyway. She's drawn to the fire, an' I'm the bleedin' flame, just like she is for me. But at least now, when my heart gets pulverized, I can at least say I tried.

"Would you ever trust me to try again- even if it was just me caring about you, not loving you?" Buffy asked, realizing that her words sounded far too humble and pleading for a slayer, a slayer to a ruthless vampire no less. But with all her heart she meant them, and she was telling herself to try and feel her way through, not think everything out to the minute detail. Not with him anyway. You didn't have to plan every single word and action with someone you trusted. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but I trust you- enough to- if you want to."

He titled her downcast green eyes up to his cerulean ones, and peered into her, trying to really see inside that mind and heart. "Buffy- are you sayin' we could- give it another go?"

"I don't know what would happen, but I know you can make me feel safe, and warm, and loved." She confessed, shocked and worried that she was opening up to him like that, admitting what he did to her, could do for her.

"Like your heaven?" He whispered, recalling her description of her emotions when in her heavenly dimension.

"I know that you're a vampire, and you can't really be something like that-"

"We don't fit the mold, Luv." He stroked his hands from her back to her stomach now, suddenly taking the massage in a new direction. "For you, I can be. If you'll let me."

"I'll let you." She whispered.

His kiss crushed her mouth and his body slammed her into the shower wall as he lost himself in his joy. "Yes, yes, of course I want to, of course we can try. We're fighters, Luv, we can make anything work, we've saved the world together, we can crack anything." He pressed into her again, and her hands resumed their interrupted exploration. "Ohhh, yes, Buffy. More of that, Sweetling, so good what you do to me."

Buffy used both hands to soap and caress his hardness and surrounding areas, amazed that this Grecian god could be for her, be arching into her touch, giving himself into her hands.

He pulled back after a few moments of this extremely intimate massage, writhing once before collecting himself and melting her down with his intense blue eyes. "Your turn." He rasped.

God, he was strong. Riley couldn't have held her like this, in one arm, back against the steamed tiles, her legs open on his chest. Angel could have done it- but they'd never had the chance. And maybe he wouldn't have wanted to, he treated her like something fragile, Spike treated her like his match. And in terms of strength and stamina, she was seeing that was true.

He rimmed her opening with delicate touches, stealing her juice and coating his forefinger with it before sliding into her. "Do you hurt, Pet?" He asked tenderly, feeling her tightness was still extreme, but more flexible around his softly probing digit.

"No." She gasped. Total opposite, she thought.

"Good." He braced her slippery hips with his arm and squeezed in another digit. "Tell me if you want me to stop." He winked, and watched the show. His finger tips found the extra sensitive patch of flesh adorning the roof of her channel. Two fingers pressed in and out,working the juices, and then attacked. Her head rocked back and she gave him a startled glance before her eyes fluttered shut. "Don't worry, Luv, I'll slow down, jus' like to get the evenin' off to a good start." He spent a few more minutes pleasuring her most sensitive internal spot before switching to circling all over her outer folds and focusing in on her tiny, swollen clit.

Yes, he was evil. Only someone personally trained by a lust monster could make her go crazy and sex-hungry like that. Oh, and if this was the dark side, well, dip her in devil's food and call her chocolate, she was for it. "Oh, oh, ohhhhhh, Spike!"

"Almost there?" He teased. She glared for a second before arching more into his manipulative fingers. Her arching hips and lifting puss gave him the idea, and he figured he might as well go for it. The scent of her, wet and ready, and the heat of her body, the pulsing of her blood, was driving him mad. He had to taste. He took his other hand away, shoving her legs from mid chest to the front of his shoulders, both hands smashed against the wall, her weight resting on his braced arms. He closed his eyes and dove, latching onto the petite pinkness spread before him.

Buffy whimpered in pleasure, shock, and a little bit of wigged outness. Spike's amused blue eyes gazed up at her, mouth full. He growled low and worried her folds, diving in deeper. "Wh-what are you doing?" She whimpered more distinctly.

His tongue pushed inside her this time, and she spasmed uncontrollably, rocking hard to the back and then side, toppling. Spike caught her and easily set her down, dropping to his knees as she stood.

"Wait, wait- Spike." Buffy blushingly sank down with him, knee to knee. "That was amazing."

"But?" He sensed the impending condition or refusal coming.

"You- don't have to do that."

"You make it sound like a chore. I bleedin' love it, why shouldn't I do it?" He argued.

"You don't get anything from it, and you doing it won't make me love you." She whispered, hating herself for thinking that. But yet in her mind, she halfway believed that men only did things for their own gain. And she reeeeally shouldn't have added that last part, but her inner bitch had been quiet for at least 10 minutes.

Spike fought down his anger. Be patient. She's just a girl with a broken heart in a lot of ways. Bull, she's as strong as anyone alive, an' I need to set her straight. I can do that- patiently. I hope. "Firstly, who says a man has to get something to give something? I would do that if I hated it, just to make you happy. Secondly, I get a lot out of it. I get the stroke to my ego, knowin' I just made you sound like someone in the midst of a tidal wave of pleasure. I like givin' you attention an' love, and I love drinkin' you up, Buffy. You taste better than anything I've ever tasted, and b'lieve me, Luv, if I could live off your cum instead of your blood, I'd do it. Thirdly," Here his voice betrayed his exhaustion of constantly having to explain something so simple to one daft, blind, bint, " I don't think I can make you turn out a light if you're bound an' determined not to, I certainly don't think I can make you love me. But I still like to please you, yeah?" They shared a look of mutual understanding, and then Spike felt compelled to add one more reason to his list, to lighten the mood. "Fourthly, you can always pay me back, if you think the first three reasons aren't enough."

Buffy nodded and blushed. There had only been one night in her life when she had given in to something raw and loving at the same time, and the next morning it was ripped away. Since then, she wasn't the best in the world at foreplay. She could remember a few times when she'd been completely passionate with Riley, and one was caused by some kind of frat house possession. Not a good reason. She supposed she was passionate enough, with the hugging and kissing, and touching- light on the touching, but let her mouth get involved and she was always eager to cut to the chase. Maybe it was too intimate to do to someone you only cared for, even if he was the nicest guy in the world, or maybe because her longest standing sexual partner was so straight laced that she tried to hard to be normal. And she had no idea what normal was by that point.

"Can we get out of this now?" Buffy suddenly shivered as the water went from pleasantly hot to frigid, making her completely losing her train of thought. "I'm not saying that to-"

"No, Luv, I can feel the bloody ice water we just got." Spike twisted the knobs hard and helped her to her feet. "Get yourself dry, I'll go turn up the heat."

Buffy dried hurriedly, taking a few minutes to dry her hair with the tiny hair dryer attached to the wall. When she came out of the room- Spike was in his bed, covered with the sheet and looking invitingly at her. She took a deep breath- and dropped her towel. "Payback time." She whispered shakily, loving the look of amazement, and then naked hunger, dancing across his features. I don't have to be normal with him, and I can be intimate with him. He loves me. And- and I can do this with Spike, she thought, consciously choosing to say she could do this with_ him_, rather than just saying she could do it with "someone she cared about". Right now, her sexual experiences were reserved for Spike and his patient, "go ahead and screw up, I love you anyway" attitude.

"Buffy- that last reason I gave was a joke-" Spike tried to be noble.

"I got that. I still want to-" They were cut off by the insistent ringing of the phone.

"Leave it." Spike urged, reaching for her hand, sitting up, nobility fleeing. Get her distracted now, and all this goes to hell.

"I can't..." Buffy sounded genuinely regretful. Catching her own tone she gave him a surprised look. "Wow. Weird Day, huh?"

"Never a dull moment with you." He laughed, and then looked at her with a feline grin. "I like that about you, Slayer."

She blushed and hurried to the bedside. "It's gotta be Dawn or Giles, so-" Buffy picked up the phone, "if I don't answer they'll be over here." She mouthed the rest of her thought, "I don't want guests..."

"Buffy? Buffy, where've you been, Dawn is almost in hysterics!" Giles greeted her.

"I'm not hysterical! You're hysterical!" came Dawn's distant voice.

"Spike, I was wrong. It isn't Dawn or Giles- it's both." Buffy plopped down on he bed across from him.

"We've called twice in the last hour." Giles tried to sound more calm.

"The photo shoot was at four, it took a couple hours, and then we had to get some dinner for both of us and we went for a walk- see if we ran into anything. A mini-patrol." Buffy improvised the last bit. Spike, reminded of the blood they'd stopped off for, went to the door, passed her muddy shoes and scuffed bag and found his paper sack, ripped, but the plastic containers still full. And still cool to the touch, thanks to the chilly evening. He walked around the room, undressed, putting some of the blood in the fridge and some in the microwave, and getting a cigarette. He could feel Buffy's eyes on him all the time, and this time he had no urge to tell her not to stare.

"We think we have it narrowed down to about 20 different types. So far. We'll keep looking, however." Giles said proudly. "Everyone's worked extremely hard, including Dawn."

"Hey!" Dawn protested. "What do you mean_ including_ me? I always ask to be included and you never let me help."

Spike, passing by the bed, heard her comment with his keen senses, and shouted, "You tell 'em Niblet!"

"Can I talk to Spike when you're done?" Dawn asked.

"No!" Giles said as Buffy said "Okay." simultaneously. There was a mutual feeling of surprise from all four parties. Buffy pulled her freshly changed sheets back and crawled under them, feeling very exposed all the sudden, waiting for Giles to lecture or Dawn to give her away, or Spike to smirk. But the silence dragged on, and she took charge and broke it.

"Twenty types? That's- well, that's good, but could we maybe narrow it down more?" Buffy pleaded.

"Yes, my point in calling. We can eliminate some of the choices, if you can answer some questions." Giles cleared his throat. "Does she eat human food?"

"I don't know." Buffy sighed.

"Is she able to leave certain areas, go outside for instance?"

"She can move around the building, but I don't know about the outside." Buffy agitatedly plucked the covers. "Giles is this getting us anywhere? Is there something all the demons on your list have in common, such as a way that I can just _kill _them?"

"Yes, Rupert, that'd be helpful." Spike said in his best posh, "I'm mocking Giles" voice.

"Beheading usually works." Giles sighed. "But not always. It depends on the source of power. Is she corporeal, can she touch things, can you touch her?"

"We saw her open doors and carry things about, yeah." Spike supplied.

"Well- now the list is narrowed down to- 12. I'll just tell you about them quickly."

Buffy groaned internally and jerked her hand across her neck as if slitting her throat. She watched Spike get up and go get his duster. "Hey! Don't you leave! There's no leaving me alone while Giles is in lecture mode." Buffy hissed, covering the receiver. Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly saying, "Would I desert you?". He reached inside his duster and pulled out a stake and small collapsible cross bow, showed them to her, and then put them pack inside. Buffy quirked an eyebrow at him.

Spike came back and flopped down the bed, beside her this time, making her quiver and lose any minor concentration she was holding on Giles' words. "The Watcher gets goin', best to have a way out. I'll get you with the cross bow quick like on my way, if you want." He teased. She laughed hard against him, suddenly overcome with the image of them both being declared "Dead by Librarian". It was the first time in weeks that she hadn't thought of death with a longing fondness, only some dark, gallows' humor.

"Buffy? You aren't paying attention. I can hear laughing! Spike? Are you corrupting my Slayer?"

"I don't know. Am I, Buffy?" He asked innocently, and she couldn't find words, a dozen images of wrong, bad, deliciously wonderful things they had done flashing in her head and making her vocal cords freeze.

"Giles!" Dawn's voice was petulant and much louder suddenly. "Can I please talk to Buffy before you put her to sleep?"

"Put her to- honestly, no one listens."

"Giles, wait, I'm listening, I'm listening with both ears, and so's Spike, okay?" Buffy gave Spike a warning glare, and he sank his back onto the pillow with a muffled curse. "Let me talk to Dawn real fast, and then we'll go all demon research-y, okay?"

Dawn's whisper was faint and muffled. Buffy heard a very prim sounding "Oh, dear." and then Dawn's voice came back loudly. "Hi! I told Giles I had to ask you a question about boys so he'd leave the room. How did it go? Are you and Spike-"

"I can hear you Niblet." Spike warned, although dying to hear what she was going to ask. But he and Dawn had many confidences, plenty of them about Buffy, none of which he'd like her to overhear.

"Spike! I miss you. Saturday afternoons are no fun without sneaking over to your crypt."

"Sneaking over to-? Spike!"

"Bit!" Spike sat up in annoyance.

"Not always!" Dawn laughed. "Not since you've been home. Much. But- ummm. You two are okay?"

"We're fine." Buffy reassured firmly. "And you gave me a lot of help today. Thanks, Dawn."

"I'm your sister. I love helping you." Dawn said in a small, happy voice. Spike, still sitting up, hugged Buffy to him with one arm and breathed in her ear,

"That's my girls." Before he got up to make another cup of blood.

Dawn and Buffy, and then Dawn and Spike, spoke briefly, sensing an impatient Giles pawing the ground. Buffy drifted off, only half-listening to Giles, as he explained more and more unlikely scenarios for identifying the demon or killing it. She was focused on Spike.

Look at him. How can he be so confident, so cocky? Oh, wow, bad choice of words. He's huge, but I know that. Had him already. But look at him. He can walk around naked, all rippling and beautiful and made of marble- with sapphire eyes- wait, why am I going all gooey over Spike?

Hey, why _isn't_ he strutting, acting like he's tempting me? Is he just that comfortable with me?_ He shouldn't trust me, but he does_. Her mind flooded back to all the times she'd given him one more chance, even helped him, and his firm belief that he'd never come to harm because she kept her promises and was one of the good guys. All that time I thought I was stupid, and here it was worth something. He says he got some of his goodness back, for me, from me. Maybe now, I can get something back, for him, from him.

I am full love. Death is my gift. Those didn't go together, except when she had sacrificed herself for Dawn's sake. Now, back in this world, the two things were juxtaposed again. Until him. He was dead, and yet he loved her. Maybe it could be the same for her- one day.

"Buffy- call me back in the morning, perhaps?" Giles' voice finally penetrated her twirling thoughts.

"I- I'm so sorry, Giles. It's just been a long day." She conceded defeat.

"I know. And Spike isn't the cause of this? He isn't hindering your investigation or making unwanted- remarks?"

"No, Spike's been really great. He knows what I'd do to him if he messed this up." She gave Spike a glare, but her lips were playfully pursed.

"Already split my lip once for steppin' outta line, Watcher. Your Slayer's a big girl, she can take care of herself." Spike called over her shoulder as he stood up and put his mug in the sink.

Buffy heard the irritated intake of breath on the other end of the line and cut the conversation short before it could deteriorate into a shouting match between Spike and Giles. "Right! I'll call you as soon as the shop opens, wide awake Buffy. Bye, now!"

She clicked the phone down with a sigh of relief and exhaustion. "I think my brain is actually trying to leak out of my ears." She moaned as she huddled under her crisp white sheet.

Spike looked over at her with a half-hearted smile. Yep, the mood had vanished. "The mood's gone, yeah?" He shrugged and smiled happily anyway. Still here with her, and she's seeming better than she has lately. Least not so ready to cry or punch a bloke's nose in. "Telly time?" He passed her the remote from the top of the set and gazed into her eyes.

"Oh. Okay." Buffy agreed, mildly surprised that he wasn't pushing her to resume their activities. Spike caressed her hair for a second, a wistfully hungry smile on his face before he climbed into his own bed, and lay back, arms crossed under his head, covers up just far enough to cover his hips.

"Night, Luv. You'll wake me if you get the terrors, right?" She nodded and he stared at her for one more second, lips opening and shutting once, before he nodded firmly and flicked off the bedside light.

Buffy lay on her back, working up her courage, stealing glances at him. He made me feel so good. And it isn't like I won't get something back from this. I'll just do it for a minute and then tell him I want it. He'll give me another one of those wild rides, exhaust me, keep the dreams away. He's hot, and he's good at what he does- I bet he's better if I'm not fighting him every step of the way. And no one else has to know...

No! Not doing that again! I don't have to use him. Her final unfinished letter, still folded up in her bag, had tried to say that. That she couldn't feel the same way he felt, but she wouldn't be so hurtful. I'm- I'm loving, even if I'm not in love.

Spike watched her from the corner of his eye. She sat up slowly, and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, and took the few steps needed to cross to his. She sat on the edge of his bed, as close to the edge as she could get without falling to the floor. She didn't look at him, but deliberately reached over and grabbed the remote, turning off the television. What's this then? I don't even want to try to guess, or get my hopes up. She scooted closer to him, still silent, still moving very deliberately. Spike wordlessly tugged the covers down, as he moved to the far side of the bed. Maybe she wanted to curl up alongside him. He seemed to keep the nightmares away from her last night, maybe that's what she was after. But she didn't approach. "You need an invite, Luv?"

"I thought I would be polite. You know, for once." Buffy smiled ruefully.

"Come in, Buffy. You're always welcome." His voice held a tinge of humor, but was mainly just quietly pleased.

She crawled in beside him awkwardly, glad for the darkness, even though she knew he could see just fine in the dark. She was just fooling herself, but hey, it got her past the hurdle of getting them lying next to one another. She felt him shift, lying flat, and she curled up beside him in a rush, forcing herself to do it, get herself where she needed to be.

He took his own advice. Just try to feel. "Sleepin' here tonight?" He offered casually.

"Mmmhmm. If you don't mind."

"As if I'd mind." Spike slid one arm under her and pulled her to him, not under him, just chest to chest. "This is much better, init?"

Tell the truth or keep her guard up? "Much better." She agreed after a second.

"I could be very happy like this y'know, Pet." Spike whispered. "Jus' with this? You- carin' for me, an' lettin' me love you. Curled up beside you, holdin' you. Shaggin' is amazin', but I'd rather trade it in for somethin' that lasts." He looked away suddenly. "An' before you start callin' me pathetic, I realize I'm doin' the faithful lapdog bit, an' there's no need for you to rub it in."

"I do care." Buffy slowly leaned into him, and kissed him, letting him gradually deepen it, letting her hands trail down until finding his hard hipbones underneath his smooth skin. "And you're sweet." She broke the kiss to speak and resumed it immediately after. "I know I can't love you, but I'm not asking you to give up the- the- you know- the sex part." She stammered. "Unless you want to?"

"Are you mad, woman? I've been damn near blue in the balls all day." Spike laughed and nuzzled her, again thrilling that she was allowing it.

"Let me help." She whispered, wide eyes locking his, engulfing him. Her fingers found his length, slightly cool to the touch, just needing to be warmed up by someone alive. Well, she laughed bitterly inside her head,_ more_ alive.

Christ almighty, if her hand was this hot on him, her sweet mouth would make him combust. But I'll be glad to ride that rocket out...

Buffy kicked the sheets back, sliding her silken skin down him, listening intently to each little gasp and feeling each little twitch he made. "Not so big and bad are you?" she teased, as her lips came close to him, close enough for him to hiss when he felt her breath caress it. Like a tropical breeze, she was so warm compared to him.

The first contact was a closed mouth kiss, her lips firmly sealed along the side of his shaft. Another hiss, much louder this time, tickled her ears. "I haven't started, not really." She reminded him, giggling.

"Then don't let me stop you! Bloody hell, Buffy, don't stop."

Opening her mouth slightly, she traced her tongue down him and then back up. He tasted like he looked, beautiful and muscular. She found each vein, not so much because she was going crazy on him, but because she was determined to do things thoroughly. "In." Spike's voice was a shaking rasp.

"Hmm?" She asked, her tongue dancing up him again.

"Take. Me. In." Spike sat halfway up, elbows supporting himself, and met her eyes. They were hard and burning, but they softened at her suddenly apprehensive look. "Please, Luv. I'm dyin' here, so close to your mouth and just gettin' these little bits."

"Well- wouldn't want you to die." She chuckled, the sound strange and tight working out of her constricted throat. She opened her mouth and embraced him, eyes closed. _See no evil_- she smiled before giving in to the inevitable. She pushed down until he filled her mouth and he let out a string of gasping entreaties, all completely sinful. So much for "hear no evil".

Her mouth was hot and soaking, not as wet as her pussy of course, but her pussy didn't have that brilliant tongue working away at him. She wasn't even bobbing up and down on him, or sucking on him, she was just sort of tasting and caressing. And he was still going to explode any second. "I love you." He gasped.

"Mm!" She made a pleased sound and slowly pressed further down. Not going to fit. And she was no porno actress, she wasn't going to try anything fancy to make it fit. He didn't seem to mind what she was doing. Actually, he seemed to LOVE what she was doing. That gave her confidence and she grew bolder. Lifting her mouth off, she fixed him with a naughty smile. "Do you like this?"

"Hell, yes!" He reached down, stroking her cheek. "I love it. You're brilliant at it."

"Good." She pushed her lips down firmly again and began bobbing her head. She was going to turn the tables on him. Make him tremble and need her- and she wouldn't be a bitch about it. She was being nice. Caring. Very, very caring, and the fact that her heart pulsed with each noise he made meant nothing at all. The fact that she was trying, trying so hard to make him feel good was just her means to an end. _Stop lying to yourself._

"Stop, stop, oh sweet Jesus, stop!" Spike moaned and yanked her off of him, pushing her roughly to the side and lay on the bed, chest heaving, back arched several inches off the bed.

"What'd I do?" Buffy demanded, panting, licking her swollen pink lips. Spike moaned and rubbed her back frantically, still clenched in a spasm. "You said_ I_ was confusing, you're confusing!" She accused.

"Was gonna cum. Without you." He gasped out, giving her a limp, one armed hug, pulling her to his chest.

"You could have. I did earlier." She blushed.

"Would rather be inside you, feelin' you cum around me." Spike nudged her a bit, getting her tucked under him. "You want some payback yourself, Slayer?" He ran a mischievous tongue over his lips, smiling wickedly at her.

"Can I have a raincheck?" She whispered.

"As in, do this again?' Spike pressed slightly.

"Yeah. Maybe. I'm sorry, I try, but I-" Buffy fought to overcome that nagging voice in the back of her mind that wouldn't let go of the "vampire bad" chant.

"You can have a raincheck." He kissed her into silence and slid himself inside her.

"Oh, God, so much better." She whimpered. He nodded, relaxing into her. His chest pressed into hers, squashing her breasts, and his hips locked hers down to the bed. His hands, gentle, trembling, tracing, held onto her arms and back. He could do anything he wants to you... _He wouldn't have to cause you physical pain to make this hurt, leave emotional scars all over what's left of your heart. But no, that's my job. I'm the one who leaves a sting every time I talk. Oh God, I'm the one who hurts people now._

"You're thinkin' again." Spike warned, forehead suddenly pressed to hers. "You wanna share, Luv? Or can we go back to dancin'?"

"I'm sorry I hurt you. The things I said. I'm not sorry about kicking your ass, but I'm sorry about the things I said. Once you- turned to our side."

"Prolly deserved 'em." Spike lied with a shrug.

"You could hurt me right now." She whispered.

"No, I couldn't." He said with frustration. "Chipped. Plus _I love you_." His eyes burning into hers.

"I meant hurt me- like I hurt you." She felt herself getting all marshmallowy when he looked at her like that.

"We called a truce, Luv." He gently kissed her lips, body resting heavily on her. "But even if we hadn't- still wouldn't hurt you in any way, if I could help it." His hands left her back and came up to tangle in her hair, lift her head slightly so he could kiss her better. But she spoke before his lips could descend.

"Because you love me?" She whispered, a little tremble in her voice.

"A kewpie doll for the lady." Spike smiled broadly, and took her mouth.

She's never, ever kissed me back like this, was Spike's first thought. Images from that morning- Buffy warning him off of kissing her- while he was buried inside her. She was making that plain, hard, animalistic sex. Her kisses, when he'd finally taken them from her, were willing, but bruising. Now she was all soft, open, loving. _She'd never say loving, she'd say caring_, his snide voice commented. _Bugger off_, Spike growled to said voice.

"Spike." She said his name between kisses. No, she moaned his name, groaned it, trilled it.

"Makin' you happy, Precious?" He panted, a laughing smile crossing both their faces.

"No. Terribly, terribly sad." She pouted.

"Hmm. Best do it 'til I get it right, then." Spike played along.

After the first 10 minutes, Buffy was almost incoherent with pleasure, but her muzzy mind grasped the fact that she wasn't doing much more than lying there, holding on to him, moaning his name, and kissing him. That didn't seem fair. That didn't seem the thing to do for Spike anyway, 'cause they were pretty evenly matched in the strength and stamina department. She found the counter-rhythm to his thrusts and started rocking her own hips, creating more force, more friction, spurring them on.

His head wrenched back and his hands, now flat on the mattress, dug into it, fingers curling in ecstasy. She was just getting worked up, she was just increasing her pleasure, he reminded himself. It wasn't about him.

Her hands stroked down each indentation of his chest slowly, wondering if she dared. Oh well, it isn't like he'd be mad, even if he didn't like it. Buffy caressed back up and hesitantly placed her palms flat on his chest, thumbs just perpendicular with his nipples so she could stroke them.

"Press harder." He said through gritted teeth, a little jolt hitting him each time her thumb teased over him.

"Is that good?" She asked. In answer he slammed into her hard and captured one of her own nipples between thumb and forefinger.

"Bloody marvelous." He growled. He listened to her rippling moan as he gave her similar treatment, and also heard a familiar sound. The sound he'd been tapping over his own heart that morning, saddened because he was sure he'd never get to hear it again. "You're close, again, aren't you?"

"If you are." She managed to pant, a pleased smile on her lips before her face contorted in pleasure.

"I've been close all night." He doubled his efforts, waiting to feel her inner walls contract in their climax.

"Oh God yes, Spike, oh God, _yes_!"

"Buffy." He gave into his own and released deep inside her spasming tunnel, a feeling of bliss and peace washing over him in waves. "I love you, Precious. I love you so much."

He heaved one final time and his shoulders twitched and Buffy felt all of his body ripple against her, meeting her own final spasm as they collapsed together. She went limp over the bed, he went limp over her.

The peace didn't stay with Spike for long. Even as he was holding onto her, muttering little loving sentiments, he was asking himself, "Was it this long before she pulled away last time? Was it less? Was it longer? How many more seconds before we dance this whole soddin' day's dance again?"

Run. Run now. Buffy's cautioning voice was far fainter that it had ever been. Remember how many times you've wanted to run from something big and scary and oozy? And you didn't? You stayed and you fought, and dammit, I can fight this stupid fear of letting him- I don't know what exactly. Or maybe the fear of letting myself- again, not really sure, but I know something is telling me to run before the pain starts.

She looked at him. His smile was soft, but his eyes were guarded. Not sly- watchful. He's watching _me_, like I'm going to hurt _him_. But I won't. I'll try not to anyway.

"Do you wanna get up?" Spike offered painfully.

"No." she whispered, sounding suddenly very small and very alone.

"No?" Spike rolled to his side and invited her to curl up against him. Hesitantly, she did. "That's good. I'm glad. I love when you let me hold you, Buffy."

"Spike-" her voice was warning. "I- I'm trying. I don't know if I'm good at just letting someone hold me. Not for hours or anything. Or even an hour. Or even-"

"Shh. I'm just glad you didn't run from me. Yet, anyway."

"I won't. Not run_ from _you. I- I liked tonight." She confessed.

"Yeah. Me, too. Pet."

Buffy allowed herself to relax in his arms, shifting a few times until she was on her back and he was on his side, looking down at her, stroking her hair. She looked up at him, realizing with momentary shock that her hand was on the back of his neck, fingertips brushing the soft short hairs at the nape. She pulled him down slowly and kissed him. A thank you kiss. A "thank you" and a "that was wonderful" kiss. Maybe even a trace of an "I _do_ care about you" kiss.

"Someone's happy." Spike preened slightly. He wasn't ready to go back to his cocky self just yet. Let her stay in his bed for more than 15 minutes and he'd get his strut back. But not his stupidity. That was already comin' back full force. He was just gonna lay his heart out for her to tear into, any minute, just let him get some energy back.

"Well, yeah. Silly vampire. That was some of the best sex of my life." Buffy laughed. Okay, if she was honest, it was the most satisfying sex ever. Period. But she couldn't call it the best- well- she _could_ if she was being honest, but she _wouldn't_.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Luv, That wasn't sex. That was making love." Spike murmured huskily in her ear, rolling onto his front, diagonally over her.

Her eyes flashed and her tongue unsheathed. She watched him brace, he even stuck his jaw out to the side slightly and drew back, like he was actually waiting for her to land a blow. "Oh...okay. Fine. Call it whatever you want, Spike." She said with fake huffiness.

"Oooh, Slayer. Y'know I can't resist a challenge. I'm gonna do this again, 'til you called it what it is, good an' proper." Spike pounced on her and she laughed in spite of herself.

"Never. I'm 'bloody stubborn', some peroxided pest keeps telling me."

"An' I'm more stubborn. An' a thoroughly wicked man when it comes to givin' you a good time, Pet." His voice turned a shade darker and he dragged her hips under him again.

"Ohh." She sighed and struggled perfunctorily. "Fine. You can try."

"An' I'll win. Not gonna stop 'til you admit I'm right- no, you won't die. Remember? We tested that claim you made, an' you survived."

Buffy gave in, grumbling aloud, but her body giving Spike all sorts of encouraging sounds.

God damn this man. Thing. Whatever. He doesn't give up. He'd made her crazy, then soothed every urge. He'd shown love and passion every second.

"Give in?" He panted. It was several hours later, and they were both drenched. She remembered her questions from the morning. How hard did you have to work to make a vampire sweat? She'd done it to him again. When she didn't reply, he groaned and kissed her neck. "Fine. Kill me the slow way, I like it." He started positioning himself over her again.

"Spike!" She gripped his shoulders and pushed him back. "You're- you're good." She wiped his sweating forehead and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "You were right. That was making love. Oh, gahhh! Gah! I said you were right! Two times in one day!" She pulled a comically disgusted face.

"An' I'm too knackered to gloat." He slumped into the pillow with false dejection. Buffy giggled, ruffled his hair before leaving the bed. Spike scrambled to a sitting position, exhaustion replaced by a resurfacing anger and panic. "Slayer! Are you bleedin' insane? What in the hell does it take to -"

Buffy turned to him with a puzzled frown. "What? That bed's all wet!"

Spike opened and closed his mouth a few times. Fair play. She had a point. Of course, it hurt that she didn't care if he slept in a wet bed, proving that once more he wasn't in the same league as a "human". And truth be told, he didn't give a damn, where he slept. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"Spike?" Buffy looked at him with a bemused frown. "Aren't you coming?"

He looked over at her so quickly, she thought he'd give himself whiplash. Then he all but skidded in beside her, fervently hugging her and kissing her again.

"You're a minx." He hissed in her ear as they settled in to actually sleep.

"You know you love that about me." She whispered conceitedly.

"I love _you_." He reminded her.

"I know." She smiled into his eyes and kissed him one more time before she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive responses so far! _

_This chapter dedicated to Idiosyncratic Delusions, iSage, Hannah the Bloody, and of course, Lithium Reaper, who found the art to inspire the piece._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part VI

Buffy woke up slowly, naturally, not torn out of sleep by screams or dreams. Her Slayer senses were giving off some kind of muted tingly that was foreign to her. No, not foreign- just hadn't been felt in a long time...maybe not since Angel? She opened her eyes and looked into a smooth triangle of muscular arm, followed it up to find a pair of loving eyes looking at her and pale lips creased in a tiny, faraway smile. Spike. Watching her sleep. Ick. Eww, stalker Spike. She waited for feelings of revulsion to kick in, and found them replaced by thoughts of how sweet Spike could be, and wondering what he was thinking. Could she ever make someone look that happy again?

Spike waited for her to come to herself. She'd be muddled. Any moment she'd begin to remember, and even if she didn't come out swingin', she'd probably go into her holier-than-thou routine. Wait until she remembers it wasn't just once, it was a handful of times. Wait until she remembers taking him in her mouth, oh, that'd give her enough self-loathing to project on to him for a month. 'Specially if she noticed how hard he'd gotten in that one second of thinking about what they'd done.

"Good morning?" She asked in a small, cautious voice.

"Buffy." He reached for her head and cradled it with one wide spread hand. "You slept. No terrors?"

"No dreams at all. I liked that." She looked up at him more fully. He wasn't gloating. No "Ha ha, got into the Slayer's knickers", no "Made you admit we can make love, even if you don't love me" expressions or hints. "Umm. Did you sleep?"

"Plenty. Just woke up about 20 minutes ago. Watchin' you. You look like a Botticelli angel. One of the pretty ones, Luv, not those fat baby things."

She laughed and blushed. This wasn't so bad. This was like Riley. If Riley had been able to give off "sweet" vibes simultaneously with "Gonna ravish you, gonna dance with you, work with you, hunt you, catch you, love you eternally" vibes. She blushed harder. Spike should _not_ make her wet and horny. But he did.

Spike's smile changed from gentle to feral as he smelled a fresh wave of arousal mixed with their leftovers from last night's passion. "Wanna go again, Slayer?" He moved closer to her, letting her feel his hardness. "Got plenty to give, Luv. An' plenty of hours left to give it to you."

Buffy relaxed against him, about to agree. "I- I should go get a shower. I have to call Giles, remember?" She squeezed his arm firmly and sat up.

"Soddin' nancy boy librarian." Spike grumbled under his breath. "Ruinin' my time with you even when he's a bleedin' hour away."

Buffy laughed and chided him. "He has a right to get a fully lucid, undistracted Buffy today. He's got information that could help us and we can't stay here forever."

"No. No, I guess not, Luv." Spike sighed. " Wish I could though." He looked at her as she backed away from the bed, towards the shower. "An' what happens to this, then?"

"Th-this? What 'this'?" Buffy didn't meet his eye, and slunk quickly to the bathroom door, sliding behind it but keeping her head out. She couldn't take his gaze scorching her, memorizing her body like he seemed to be doing.

"You know what 'this'." Spike stood up and walked with slow easy strides to her. Stalking. But not to prey. Just to follow. "This you an' me. Makin' love. Not snipin' at each other- not much, anyway. What happens to this when we leave? D'you go back to treatin' me like dirt, or your baddie informant? Do you pretend we didn't do anything?"

"It was only one day." Buffy whispered, overwhelmed with his piercing questions. He now stood against the other side of the door.

"I'm not the one night stand type of guy, Pet. Not your average Angel or Parker." Her hand connected, an open palm across his mouth, before he could even blink, and he knew he deserved it. That was a hurtin' woman, not an angry Slayer, or even acting out of self-righteousness anger. That wasn't about him being a vamp, it was about him bein' an ass.

"I- How could you?" Buffy backed away from him, spluttering. "I'm trying to trust you! Why do you say things like that? Remind me you don't have-"

"Shhh. Buffy, Buffy, I'm sorry, You're right." Spike pushed his way in and held her by the arms. She jerked away but he gripped harder, holding her in place. "You're right. That was a rotten thing to say. Know you gave those blokes a chance an' they blew it. Had nothin' to do with you." He fought with her tossing head to bring their eyes together. "But don't call what we had 'only one day'. Hurts. 'Cause I love you, an' I can't think straight, can't imagine that tomorrow, or the day after, it all gets ripped away."

"Like Angel?" She whispered, half to herself, eyes sliding away, and bravely coming back. He just stared, and she knew she had to explain. "I'd be like him. Running. Leaving. Without a soul."

"No, not without a soul, Buffy, not that. Maybe jus' afraid of what people'd say? Or 'cause you don't love me, care, whatever, enough to keep tryin'?"

She was too lost in her introspection to pay attention to him. "You don't have a soul." She remarked absently, squinting in puzzlement.

"Yeah. I've heard, Pet. A lot." Spike sighed and let his arms drop away, only to find her hands coming up and catching his forearms before they parted. He dampened the little spark of hope that always came to mock him, whenever they touched, whenever she initiated.

"But- you didn't run away. You didn't take anything, or ask anything. You still love me. Without a soul. Without a soul!" Her voice was rising, half-angry, half-disbelieving.

"I don't know why I can feel what he couldn't, Buffy." Spike reached up and brushed her cheek gently. "An' I'm sorry he made you think that no soul equals no love. I loved you without one before we made love, I'm still in love with you after it. Bugger it, I think I'm_ more_ in love with you now. Didn't realize that was possible." He tilted his head down, taking in the sight of her feet alongside his, and he laughed bitterly. "God, 'M gonna bleedin' die from this. Gonna _fuckin'_ die from this, when it goes away." He shook her hands off. "Jus' take your shower. I can't make you _see_ anything that you don't want to, no matter what the hell I _show_ you."

This time it was her hand that slammed into the door, shutting it in his face, preventing his exit.

"I don't know what happens after this. But I_ do_ see what you've shown me. I've been wrong about a lot of things. I'm not saying I think you're... I don't what you are, Spike." She paused. He had shown incredible love and loyalty without a soul. If that was the case, why did Angel claim he needed the soul to love her, and soulless Angel ran from her? It was too much to figure out, she didn't think she'd ever would. And no way she was going to try to ask Spike to help her figure it out. She sighed and concluded her speech. "I just think maybe we have something in common."

He turned back to face her. She had her head down, but eyes looking up. Her arms were crossed protectively around herself, and she'd shifted to the side. Body language that meant "I'm not going to fight. Not going to run.". Then nor am I. "We do, Pet. Plenty in common."

"The real world won't understand us." She whispered sadly.

"We don't travel in the 'real'. We travel in the 'legendary'." He whispered coming back to her. "I'm not sayin' you have to march back into Sunnyhell with me on your arm an' start pickin' out curtains for the crypt." He gave a sardonic chuckle.

"Good, 'cause that is so not happening." She rolled her eyes and giggled. "But- what do you want then?"

"You. Just you. This thing, whatever the hell it is. Me an' you." He pulled her to face him and held her close, sighing internally when her head landed on his chest. "Can we at least try it?"

"No gloating?" She muttered into his skin.

"Swear on all that's holy. I'd hold a cross if you'd like, but y'know- me an' my unclean hands...". Spike felt her cheek twitch and knew he'd earned one of her grins.

"We'll try. Maybe we'll tell Dawn. But no one else. Or you'll get a sharp, wooden death." She menaced.

"You on top?" He stroked her hair.

"You'll never even see me coming."

"I love watchin' you cummin'." He teased.

"Spike!"

"I won't tell, Slayer. But don't blame me if one of 'em notices. Don't think I can pretend to hate you."

" I can always chain you up in the tub again. You looked pretty mad at me then." She suggested with a smirk.

Spike smirked back. "You, me, bathtub? Hot little pussy... Throw in some chains- God, Buffy." He suddenly tugged her along behind him and shoved the shower curtain back.

Buffy squeaked in surprise as he yanked her inside, shivering against him until the water warmed. "So... I'll find something else to do to make you mad?"

"You can try. Have a feelin' everything you do is just gonna make me love you more. An' think nasty little thoughts." Her hands wandered down to his length and he shuddered in pleasure. "You had to call the Watcher." He breathed, tempting her.

"I said when the store opened. It's Sunday. Store doesn't open until late." Buffy replied, stroking him more firmly.

"It's real early, Pet." He informed her. "Maybe eight, maybe nine...". He turned her by her hips, placing her back to his chest. "Plenty of time to play."

"What are you-" Panic flooding suddenly through her. You can't let him get you from behind. In this little space. You can't. Her elbow suddenly itched to connect with his solar plexus.

"Trust me. Trust me, I love you." He pressed her forward and she resisted. He pushed once more and he felt her back tremble. No. No pushing, not that far, anyway. "Okay. Okay, Buffy. Not like that. 'S okay, Pet. Hundreds of other fun positions." He took his hands completely off of her and took a step back.

"Sorry. I- Slayer- vamp thing. Probably." She let out a shaky breath. "But you aren't mad?" She squinched her brows together. "Even that didn't make you mad?"

"No." He lightly stroked her arm. "Buffy, when you hurt, I hurt. Know you think that's impossible, but that's how I feel. So jus'... You pick. As long as we're together, I'm happy."

Buffy relaxed and cuddled up to him. "Teach me something new?" She whispered, forcing herself to just trust him a little bit more. Maybe a little bit more each day. Slide back into this world, use this cold heart a little bit more, each day.

"Don't know what you already know." Spike whispered back.

"Everything feels different with you anyway." She admitted. His eyes lit and then hooded. He kissed her gently and they sank to the floor together.

Some time later, they emerged, scrubbed beyond clean, and satisfied after a variety of manual pleasuring culminating with her riding him. But not the hard riding of the previous morning. This wasn't slamming onto him. She sat on him, hardly moving, just grinding and rocking. Her reason tried to warn her that she was on a dangerous path. She felt safe, and closer to him than she had felt to anyone in a very long time. But when he was looking up at her worshipfully, and it was warm and wet, and felt amazing...she didn't listen too well.

"Guess what I discovered?" Spike was putting on his new clothes, the shirt fitting snugly over the shoulders and chest, but bagged at his hips. The jeans were a darker, crisper black, being new, not having been worn every day or every other day for the last two years.

"Your clothes fit, and I'm a good guesser?" Buffy chirped brightly.

"True, but no." Spike smirked. "Look. Room service menu."

"Waffles?" Buffy cleared the bed and snatched it from his hand.

"They get it from the coffee house nearby, so it's all simple things, but-"

"Ooooh! _Belgian_ waffles!"

"An' she's off." Spike laughed and sank back on the bed. And switched. And then gave up. "Bloody hell."

"What?" Buffy asked, phone in one hand, other hand rummaging in her bag for fresh clothes.

"Both beds. Smell like us." And it's makin' me want you again. Just had you, an' one whiff and I'm gone. Okay, that wasn't a human thing, but God, it was true.

"Yick. You've gotta get over that habit of smelling things. It's totally not polite." Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"Smells like love makin'. Your bed in particular, Luv. How many times did I make you cum, then?"

He dodged a pillow and stopped preening- out loud anyway.

Buffy ordered her waffles and coffee and Spike asked for steak and eggs, with a very rare steak. They ate together, and then went about sorting out their muddy clothes and shoes from last night. "We need to get out of the room for a little bit to let the maids work." Buffy said, sadly looking at her mud spattered clothing. "After we call Giles, we should find the hotel laundry room."

"Just need a bit of polishin' for mine." Spike surveyed his duster and boots.

"We'll wash your clothes with mine." Buffy said firmly, pulling all of their things into one of the plastic hotel laundry bags. "Now what?" Spike was staring at her with an amused smile.

"Jus' thinkin' how sweet you can be. When you don't wanna kill me or break m' bones."

"It's just laundry. Don't make a big deal." She warned. "And_ you _have to help."

"My pleasure." Spike winked, wondering how long before she'd remember that he would love the chance to fondle what she wore closest to her skin. About three seconds.

"But I'll do my own! No- no _you_, with the touching, and the obsessing."

"So- I can make love to you, but not touch your knickers- unless you're in 'em?" Spike raised his scarred eyebrow at her and shook his head. "Crackers." He dodged the second pillow and smiled. He loved her fire- was just glad to be out of it's range for once in the last several years.

Buffy settled herself cross legged on the floor at the foot of her bed, and Spike lounged on the floor beside her, idly flicking the pages of the TV Guide provided by the hotel. "No distracting me. I mean it." Buffy warned.

"How about after laundry an' maid service, then? Would that be a good time?" He asked saucily.

She bit back a moan. She would love to enjoy him some more. As much as possible really, because once they got home- well it wouldn't be this way. Maybe not over- but it definitely wouldn't be the same. "Maybe." She said in a small voice, and he lost his grin. She gave him a tight but encouraging smile, and he nodded once. He would wait for her. And that just made her want him worse. Riley hadn't waited. Riley demanded she change immediately. She'd tried. But it hadn't been quick enough. And that was why he was gone.

She dialed, trying to put all thoughts of men, any men, from her mind. But they came anyway. The nice one. The human one, who wasn't using her for a one night party favor? He'd been the one to cheat on her. With vampire whores, no less. Not sex, but sharing blood. She- she couldn't think about that. And then he'd left. Because she couldn't open up to him fast enough.

"Hello, Magic Box, the one stop shop for all your occult needs." Anya's voice caroled.

"It's me." Buffy couldn't help but smile, her sad thoughts vanishing, partly because of that, and partly because of Spike's snicker as he lay at her feet. She didn't think he was a lap dog, not to her. Devoted, patient, stubborn as double pneumonia? Yes. Pathetic lap dog- maybe a little, but he set it off with being obnoxiously violent and sexy, so... She didn't know. But he'd stick around for her, and she loved that.

"Oh! Giles! It's her." Anya sounded excited. "Please keep him busy. And please kill this thing fast and come home. He's making everyone research for hours and hours, and driving all of us crazy." She said in her precise, cheerful manner.

"I am not, Anya, now- now go put these invoices away." Giles snatched the phone and stumbled over his words in his haste. "Buffy? Are you there?"

"And completely focused, professor." She smiled brightly.

"Well, good. That's an improvement. And Spike?"

"Lyin' right here." Spike called in response.

"Lying? In your room? Spike is lying down in your room?" Giles hissed angrily.

"Yes, Giles. On the floor."

"He shouldn't be-"

"Oh, give it a rest, Giles." Spike snarked. "We'll go move our conversation about how to kill demons to the call box in the lobby, shall we?" Buffy gave him a warning look. "Could jus' tell him we kipped in the same room, if you like." Spike whispered with an evil leer.

"Shh!" Buffy hushed him.

"We think it may be a servant demon." Giles began.

"A what? Like 'Can I get you another glass of champagne' demon? What's wrong with that? Why can't I have one of those?" Buffy demanded.

"A servant demon is a demon who serves an immortal, Pet. They were humans who pledged their lives and souls to the service of a god or goddess."

"Again, why is this bad?" Buffy pressed.

"Well, not all demons of this kind are bad, Buffy." Giles said.

Buffy's mind reeled. "Did you just say not all demons are bad?"

"Not- that is to say- in some rare-"

"Yes, Luv. He just said some demons are good." Spike purred, more sexually than he meant to. Just imagine the Watcher's face if he knew he was helping him make his case to the Slayer.

"I did not! The demon's work- might be of a positive nature. The demon itself can still be bad."

Buffy put her head almost level with her ankles, stretching and hiding her head at the same time. "You lost me. Can we start over?"

"We think, and we're not sure, mind you, that it might be a servant demon. A human who has pledged their existence to the service of an immortal god or goddess. There are hundreds of god and goddesses, in different dimensions and different cultures. Some are benevolent, some are evil."

"Well, we've got missing people, so I'm guessing this isn't a good one." Buffy sighed.

"I agree." Giles said grimly. "No matter what immortal the demon is aligned to, it still demands an offering."

"Yeah, but those offerings don't have to be a dead body." Spike spoke up. "Could be anything associated with what the immortal favors, represents."

"Fine, fine. It could be good or bad, or make offerings of people or paper cups, who cares! Which one do we have, and how do _I kill it_?"

"Right, yes." Giles' voice took on that hesitant tone that meant he was about to put forth an idea that Buffy wouldn't like, or was only speculating on. "Since only models, presumably attractive people in their prime, have disappeared, I'd suspect it was a goddess or god who was associated with beauty. Or youth. Or it could be a god pride or vanity. Or-"

"So we just have some ideas." Spike said dryly, and flicked open his lighter. He pulled out two cigarettes and offered Buffy one. She shook her head vehemently and he shrugged, muttering "Suit yourself. Gonna die in this conversation, might as well go out with a moment of pleasure." He licked his lips. "Less you'd rather go out with a bang?" He cupped himself, making her reach over and give him a hard slap on the side of his head, knocking the cigarette from his lips. "Hey!"

"Spike! Stop that, right now." Giles said, overhearing Spike's part of the conversation, fortunately without a visual accompaniment.

"What are you gonna do, Watcher, dial me collect?" Spike goaded.

"Watch yourself, Spike. That's all." Giles warned, a hint of Ripper in his tone. Spike shut up, more to appease Buffy than the frustrated researcher on the phone.

"I don't get it." Buffy brought them back on track. "If it's a god of youth or beauty, that's a good thing, right? Beauty and youth are good."

"Glory seemed to go heavy on the youth and beauty herself, Pet." Spike reminded her. "Wouldn't call her good."

"I guess not. Um. Okay. Second part of the problem. How do I kill it?"

"It depends on the god or goddess the person is in allegiance to. They are, as long as they serve the god or goddess, essentially immortal. You need to find their link to immortality, and destroy it to destroy them. You could kill the human-"

"I can't kill a human!" Buffy shouted.

"I'm pretty useless there, myself, Luv." Spike admitted.

"If you'll let me finish." Giles sighed impatiently. When silence was achieved, he continued. "You can kill the human, but then you unleash the demon. It wouldn't have a host any longer-"

"Which I guess it has to have?" Buffy moaned. "I kill it and someone else gets possessed?"

"That's the theory." Giles confirmed.

"Not necessarily." Spike contradicted. "There are some-"

"But we can't risk it." Giles hissed angrily.

"We won't." Buffy soothed. "We'll find whatever the link thingy is and break it. Or destroy it. What would it look like?"

"Different for each situation, I'm afraid. But it would be something carefully guarded. And it would be unmistakable."

"Well. I feel prepared." Spike quipped sarcastically.

"We're doing our best." Giles said tersely.

"And it's really, really good." Buffy placated, glaring at Spike. "Don't worry. We'll make sure we solve this and come home. Soon."

"Yes, please do. Dawn- misses you terribly."

"She made you listen to a boy band again, didn't she?"

"And eat raw cookie dough." Giles groaned. "Strange, sticky stuff."

"Oh, be a man, you ponce." Spike laughed with a harsh edge to his voice. "Bit only does that to you if you're soft. You tell her next time _you _pick the music."

"Is Dawn there?" Buffy asked eagerly. Spike beamed. He hadn't heard her use that tone in so long. She really wanted to talk to her sister, it wasn't just meeting her obligation this time.

"She and Tara are making muffins for a bake sale at the school." Giles explained regretfully. "You can reach her at your house. Oh- provided they haven't ruined the batch and gone out to get more ingredients."

"Tara's helping, right? I'm sure Dawn's in good hands. Thanks for your help Giles. We'll check in tonight. Bye."

"Bye. Buffy- be careful. Of everything."

"I will." Buffy hung up the phone and met Spike's gaze.

"Niblet. Cooking. Even with the little wicca's help-"

"I'm calling. Oh God. Did the fire insurance on the house lapse while I was gone?"

After a lengthy conversation with Dawn, and a shorter one with Tara, who seemed fairly preoccupied, Buffy and Spike stretched and got to their feet. "I'm knackered, Luv, and I can't think why." Spike winked.

"Thought you could keep up with me." Buffy swished away from his grasping fingers.

"I kept 'up' with you all night, Slayer. And this morning. Still good for another ten rounds, if you fancy."

"Our laundry." Buffy gathered the bag of muddy clothes and her purse.

"It can wait." Spike caught her around the waist and ran his hands slowly, agonizingly down her hips. "Let me take some of the tension out of your sweet little body, Slayer."

She almost relented, she was mortified to hear a little whimper of need and want pass her lips. "Spike..."

"Mmm?" He kissed her neck, working them backwards to the bed.

"We need to leave the room."

"Naughty girl. Where'd you want it, the laundry room or find the cleaning cupboard?"

"Spike!" This time the tone was vaguely annoyed and she shook him off, pushing out the door and marching away. She couldn't tell however, if she was more annoyed with him, for having the dirty mind, or herself, for being turned on by it. Not the public nudity part, that was just wrong with a big fat helping of sick, but the ideas he put in her mind...

He chased after her, grateful that they were in a nice hotel, not a crumbling motor lodge, so they could roam the hotel without passing through the daylight, or even uncovered windows. "Buffy- I'm only teasin', you know that." He grasped her wrist and pulled her into stride with himself. "I mean- I do want you, right now, right here, anywhere- but I don't mean to make you mad."

"You? Don't mean to make me mad?" Buffy looked at him with raised brows.

"Ain't love grand?" Spike shook his head ruefully.

"I wouldn't know- anymore." Buffy's face closed over and Spike, for the second time in as many days, knew when to hold his tongue.

At 4:10, the pair walked away from the alley where the bike was hidden, and stayed in the shadowy places until they reached the doors of the agency. "Okay. I'm gonna change really fast and say I have to go to the bathroom, then I'll run over to the locked door at the end of the -"

"Wait. Wait, Luv." Spike looked at her quizzically. "You're goin' to do what with the door? Punch it in, kick it down?"

"Well... I don't know. Whatever it takes. That has to be where the link thing is."

"How about this? We don't crash into the alarmed door in the middle of the afternoon in a buildin' full of people?"

"She's already looking for the next victim. Oh, my God, Spike, she could have already found the next one! While you and I were having irresponsible sex, she might have butchered some cute little swimsuit model!"

"Irresponsible sex? What happened to makin' love? An' what do you mean irresponsible?" Spike demanded, footsteps suddenly louder and angrier.

"Fine! While we were responsibly making love, someone could have gotten murdered! I know you probably don't care, but I do!"

"Will you stop that? I changed. For _you_. The end of this song. Sing it once more, Buffy, and I'll-"

"You'll what? Glare at me? Leave me? Get someone else to hurt me?" She propelled herself quickly from him, leaving him speechless. "We'll talk about another plan. Later."

Spike walked behind her in silence, suddenly wishing he'd opted to stay home and look after Dawn instead of coming on this circus field trip with a half-mad bint. They couldn't go for more than an hour without a fight- which was a large improvement on the five minutes without a fight that they'd had on arrival. Besides- a smile tickled his lips into a half-grin, he loved the blaze inside her. Just wished she'd turn it elsewhere for a change. "I won't leave. I'll be brassed off. That's what I'll be." Spike said, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She'd insinuated that he wouldn't care if innocent people died (which she did have a good reason for, she supposed) snapped at him when he defended himself. And thrown her insults in his face. And he still wasn't turning on her. "Why do you care?" She suddenly whispered. "Not about me. I get that- a little bit. But why do you care, about some innocent you've never met? It isn't just because you can't hurt them."

Spike fell into step with her again, voice low and frustrated. "I dunno. I guess- at first, it was because you wouldn't like me hurtin' anyone. Then it was 'cause I didn't want to hurt you or Bit. I wanted to take care of her for you, Buffy, like I should've done in the first place-"

"You did what you could."

"Wasn't enough, though, was it?" Spike hissed fiercely. "So, no. It isn't just for the sake of my soddin' chip. I wanted to be there for Dawn, an' I knew I had to stay to the straight an' narrow to do it. An' then- then I dunno. I've killed thousands, okay? Maybe I could kill a thousand more, but I don't want to. I need the blood, I miss the taste, sure, but- I don't want to see..."

"See what? More dead bodies? More violence?"

"See more girls cryin' over someone they love, like I love you." He whispered. He swallowed and met her eyes, daring her to call him on it, claim he lied.

You can't love without a soul. The old refrain mercifully died on her lips before they hit the air. "That's a good thing, Spike." She offered him the best she had.

"I love you, Buffy."

"I know." She smiled weakly. "And- I think- that's a good thing, too." She admitted in a tense whisper. A flash of light lit up his eyes in the way she loved, and he took her hand in his. She didn't pull away.

"Williams and Summers." Buffy announced them once they reached the main desk.

"You two can go right on up. We try to get out of here early on Sundays." Marianne said pointedly, remembering the pairs' less than graceful excuse about attending church in the morning and needing a late appointment.

"Ta' Hen." Spike smiled and pulled Buffy along behind him, whispering out of the corner of his mouth as they climbed the steps. "We'll come back in tonight, once they've gone. Or wait in that prop room. I can prolly figure out the alarm system enough to get us in without settin' it off."

"What if Melissa's still in there?"

"Not really a problem, is it?" Spike flashed a predatory grin. "If she's got the demon in her, I can hurt her, an' if she doesn't- she isn't much of a threat."

"Thank goodness you two finally showed up." Rob greeted them shrewishly as he scurried down the hall carrying a box almost his size. "Clothes are in there. Very basic, no imagination. I'll be back in a minute."

"Let's see what new horrors are in store." Buffy sighed as they continued down to the room they'd used twice before."

"He said basic." Spike comforted.

"Yeah. And the first jeans photo was pretty damn basic, as in no shirts, just pants basic." Buffy complained.

"Well, they can't help it. You look stunning, Buffy, in or out of clothes." Spike pressed his lips to her ear as he passed her.

"Oh! I have shirt. An actual shirt, not a towel. This is cute." Buffy held up a plain, pale pink ribbed tank top with a small strip of lace at the hem and the top, and a pair of raggedy jeans. "People pay a lot of money for clothes that already look worn out." She commented. "What do you have?"

"Jeans. Or a ruddy suitcase, look at all the flippin' zips this thing has." Spike gestured to the zippers on the front of each pant leg, the back pockets and the calves.

"You'll look cute." Buffy smiled. They both looked as though they'd swallowed something bitter. "Oh no."

"Cute? Cute? Just stake me now. I don't_ do_ cute."

"I meant- umm. Another word. Not cute."

"Yeah. Work on your lyin', Pet." Spike growled in defeat and began unceremoniously de-robing. Buffy didn't look away this time, until the last inch of his zipper was down, anyway. Then she remembered who she was and turned. "You're allowed to look, Luv. You own the goods."

"I don't own anything." She protested, stepping behind the clothing rack to change.

"You may not like to claim it, but you do." Spike zipped up the new jeans and turned. "Hmm. Pretty good fit this time. Little wanker must have pre-shrunk 'em." Spike tugged the stonewashed cobalt jeans up a little higher and then turned to her, bare chested and bare foot, looking very boyish in his face and very masculine in his body. "What d'you think, Pet?"

"You look nice." She crouched to slide her own jeans on and cursed herself. Nice? Is that the best she could do for this piece of art who_ loved_ her? "Really, really nice." She amended with an embarrassed smile.

"Not so bad, now was it?" Spike grinned and stepped behind the rack.

"Yes. Yes it was, actually." She backed up, defensively crossing her arms over her chest though she was already dressed. Spike reached for her anyway, sliding his fingers up through her long blonde hair which was curling at the ends today. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Admiring." He murmured. "I love your hair. Straight out of a fairy tale, the princess with the long, flowing golden locks." He stroked it affectionately, wonderingly.

"I'm not a princess. I'm the knight in shining armor." Buffy laughed derisively, backing up farther still- into a wall this time.

"You could be my princess, Luv. The ass-kickin', demon fightin' kind, but I could be your knight. If you'd just let me."

She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip. He knew what to say. Damn him. She would love to be cared for, to be done fighting, to be safe and loved, and he knew it. Three days ago she would have said he was a cruel bastard, using her weakness. But now she believed him. Plus, she was totally loving the image of a beautiful, evil-slaying princess. "You've already been my knight. All the times you've helped me." She confessed. "But I don't think I can be your princess. Or anybody's. I don't think I'm cut out for princess-ing." She laughed at herself, looking away from him.

"Then you can be whatever you like, Pet, still gonna rule in my heart."

"Oh dammit, you and your- stupid- smooth mouth!" Buffy kissed him hard and was offended when he suddenly leaped away from her and yanked open the door.

"Ready for me this time?" Rob waltzed in, an armful of fresh make up supplies in his arms.

"Yep." Spike winked to Buffy and then gave her an apologetic smile. She smiled back, understanding his abrupt departure.

"Such a boring shoot, no imagination. Arthur will have to do something to it, that's for sure." Rub puttered around for a minute and Spike sank into the chair, slouched back.

"Powder me up then, an' I'll be on my way over." Spike wanted to hurry this along, get to the breaking and entering part, maybe even the demon-fighting part, craving some action to relieve the surprising amount of sexual tension he'd been having lately. _Woman's like some enchanted well_, he thought, looking at Buffy. _The more you drink from her, the thirstier you get. _

"All righty." Rob gave him an appraising glance and selected some makeup from the table. Buffy emerged and watched, amusement at Spike's constant scowl vying for position with lust at the sight of his perfect torso, all stretched back and rippling so Rob could thoroughly dust every line. "You're easy to do today. Mostly a body shot, not so much the face." He quickly dabbed some more powder over Spike's forehead and cheeks and turned to Buffy. "Your turn, Ann."

"Okay." Buffy sighed and switched places with Spike.

"And look at what they gave you. Ha! Don't worry darling, _you're_ not the selling point for this shoot, thank God. Am I right?" Rob appeared openly amused over Buffy's outfit. She supposed, looking down, that the shirt was too big. She probably looked bony. Scrawny. Well, if they would only give her a mirror, she might have been able to fix herself up a little..."Thank God for the man-candy, or the jeans company would have to call this shoot a total loss, I mean if I was just looking at _you_, I-"

Rob's blundering mouth stopped forming words and emitted a pained gasp. Buffy's eyes widened as she realized Spike's hands were shoving the petite technician away from her, and then with his hands clamped on his shoulders, he was marching him to the door. "What are you doing? She isn't even finished!" Rob yelped.

"No, but you are. You come back an' finish when you talk to a person like a person, an' not some poster on legs." Spike growled. Rob drew himself up to his inconsiderable height and glared back, turning to face his pushy model.

"Just because you have a personal relationship, doesn't mean that I-"

"Oh, sod off, you pillock." Spike gave him a hard backward shove and slammed the door behind him, a split second before sinking to the floor with both hands clutching his head. "Bloody hell. That's 100% human, that one." Spike winced and stood back up, almost colliding with Buffy who was leaning over him.

"Spike." She murmured, an inscrutable expression on her face.

"Yeah, I know." Spike sighed and rolled his head back to gaze at the flickering fluorescent bulbs. "Tempers always been a problem. Got zapped for it. Hurt a human. Acted stupid- jump in anytime, Slayer."

"Why'd you do that?" Buffy looked at him.

"Man's a wanker. He acts like we don't hear what he says. Maybe models are used to gettin' described like cattle, but you're not, an' I- I dunno, Pet, I lost it. I'm sorry if I messed up things for us."

"I'm a big girl, Spike. I can take care of myself. Remember, not the princess?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, Luv. I remember." Spike opened the connecting door to the shoot room and stepped inside, not looking at her anymore. _Try to be chivalrous an' get knocked down. Act like a jerk, get knocked down. Love her, fight her, do soddin' anything and it gets you knocked down. But you'll stay, you bloody fool._

Buffy followed him into the next room, emotions swirling around her. She hated it when guys fought over her. She had thought she was going to have to beat Riley and Angel to pieces last year to make them stop acting like school boys. And she didn't like people underestimating her, thinking she needed someone to come to her defense.

But Spike wasn't underestimating you, and he wasn't in some macho pissing- contest over you. He got angry because of how you got treated, and he spoke up. He didn't even do more than give the guy a shove, and now he had the equivalent of an electrically induced hangover.

"Thank you." Buffy laid her hand on his arm and he spun around. "No, seriously. Thanks. I didn't need it, but I- it was nice of you."

"You're welcome." Spike's face softened and he sat on the edge of the low platform set in the middle of the room. It was covered in a metallic drape, with dozens of lighting umbrellas working with floodlights to create a sun-like glow that reflected off the sheet. With a pained sigh he sank back, rubbing his brow.

"Must be like a day at the beach for you." Buffy stood beside him and tugged lightly on the sheet, looking up into the blissfully warm light..

"I guess. Never did go to the seaside in daylight. We were townies, my mum and I. Always liked towns an' cities after that."

"Oh. That's so- sad." Buffy found herself saying, puzzled that she felt any regret for him.

"Yeah, well. Prolly should have gone an' done lots of things differently, but I didn't." Spike gave a resigned shrug.

Buffy sat on the edge beside him, working up her courage, just like she'd done last night. Spike sensed it and sat up slightly. "What's up?"

"I- I just wanted to do something nice for you. You were my knight again. Not in shiny armor and the big white horse- but still a knight."

"Give me a proper thank you, then." Spike chuckled softly, almost a purr, low in his chest. He tilted his lips and closed his eyes, a half smirk on his face.

Ha. Thinks I mean a little kiss. That I can't thank him better than that. Buffy peered at him, making sure his eyes were tightly closed, and her face transformed in a devious grin.

"Jesus Christ!" Spike shouted in surprise. His fly had been yanked down- too close for comfort almost, nearly caught his bare bits in it, and then her mouth was pressed around his semi-hardness. He caught his unneeded breath and his eyes rolled back as she stared up at him, watching him tense and tremble under her oral ministrations. "Buffy..."

She felt powerful at first. Listen to him, Mr. Bad-ass, and he's all breathless and helpless just 'cause I stroke him the right way. And then she began getting into it- not so much listening for his noises to find out what made him weak, but listening to find out what made him feel good.

His hand brushed her arm as it lay on his waistband, and she noticed the hesitancy, the almost instant retraction of his fingertips when she met his eyes. I must've been the bitch queen to him, to make him react like that. _And that's good_, her snappish voice reminded her,_ he's a vampire_.

But he's more. He's Spike. He's... He's just Spike, and he means something to me and he means a lot to Dawn. I don't want to hurt him. She sucked on him suddenly, not just moving her mouth, but actually trying to draw him in. He arched and grabbed her wrist tightly. In a second, his spasm relaxed and his hand loosened.

Buffy slid her arm through his loose grip and caught his hand with hers. Just stay. Let me try to be good to you, she telegraphed, and he obeyed.

I can make him happy, Buffy thought with a pleased inner glow. I must be good at this. Hah, and here I thought I didn't have any more hidden talents... But I can make him happy. I can care. I'm caring. She slid her grasping mouth all along the underside of his shaft and popped her lips back over the top, earning her another arch and moan. I'm loving. I could love someone. I _could_- someday. In the meantime... She gave Spike a royal 100% of her attention and sucked and licked him into a frenzy, letting the primal slayer in her go to work in a way that she'd never experienced before.

What in God's name had come over her? And who the bloody hell cares? Spike's mind was racing, along with his non-existent heartbeat and pulse, all of the energy in him going to his groin like a heat seeking missile. He couldn't fathom it. She had to be cajoled and comforted into each new act of trusting him, of trusting herself to do anything that wasn't automatic or a matter of self-preservation. This was spontaneous. It couldn't be a plot, because Buffy was one of the "good guys", and yeah, she might be a bit of a tease or a flirt sometimes, to annoy him, but she wouldn't do something like this.

My God. She's givin' this to me. Spike felt his eyes sting for a minute and he cursed himself. You can't cry durin' this, stop thinkin' so much. And then she moaned around him, for the first time ever. She was givin' him something, just to give- and she was enjoying it. "I love you." He gasped and felt himself start to give way.

Buffy all the sudden popped her head up, eyes alert. Spike looked poleaxed as she roughly dragged his jeans shut over him and lowered her torso to shield his lower half. "Shh!" Buffy hushed him as his mouth opened and his eyes glinted, his body tensing.

"Ann, Spike, are we -" Arthur was walking through the door.

"Doesn't _anybody_ here knock?" Buffy demanded, irate and exasperated.

"Give us a minute, mate." Spike said in a strained voice, tones of anger and protectiveness battling for control.

"Don't interrupt us." Buffy glared, still crouching over Spike. "We'll open the door when we're ready."

Art was aghast, but mentally shooting fabulous photographs of Ann in her protective anger, her almost primeval stance of ownership over Spike, spread out like a muscular canvas, the perfect specimen of a strong mate. He blinked rapidly, fiddled with his hair and backed away.

Spike and Buffy exchanged a glance. "Sorry." She muttered.

"Me, too." He licked his lips. "Thank you, Luv. That was- never had something that good."

"I'm good?" Buffy asked with ponderous pride.

"The best." Spike winced and reinserted himself into his jeans. "Bugger it. Gonna take more than a minute for that to die down." He exchanged a wicked grin with Buffy. "May have to finish what you started later, Princess."

"I'm not a princess!" She said hotly. He winked and curled his tongue behind his teeth as he grinned. "But if you're a good boy..."

"Oh, Baby. I'm bad an' you know it." He sat up painfully, contained as he was in the snug fitting jeans, and leaned close to her. "Doesn't mean I can't be good to _you_." And she shivered against him.

Melissa tripped softly down the hall in her black pumps, a cold half-smile on her face. "Arthur?"

Art turned away from the door he'd just left through. He ran his hands through his hair again. "Mel, I know you like that new guy, Williams, but the girl-"

"Arthur, Robert has just been weeping and wailing most theatrically all over the second studio, and all over me as well. Claiming that Spike insulted him and shoved him 'on his perfect little tucus'." She gave him a frosty smile. "Do you have a complaint as well?"

"Yes. And no. They photograph together so perfectly, like fire and ice, but you never know which one is which. Today it was her. I walked in on them- I think they were about to- or just had been- getting 'friendly'." Art coughed discreetly.

"The two of them? Well, that is a problem. This is, after all a professional organization, an agency dedicated to preserving beauty. If they jeopardize the work, we'll let them go."

"No! No, she's just- she's the fiery one tonight, and he's just perfect as the tinder, Mel. I have to capture it." Arthur begged.

"Robert didn't even finish their makeup. He told me. And he's had a hissy fit and left for the day."

"I don't care! They're raw and natural and untamed this evening. I've never seen two people go through such a broad palette in a few short days." Arthur's fingers twitched and spun, mentally taking picture after picture.

"Fine, let them finish this shoot. But tomorrow- have Marianne schedule them to see me. I'll talk to them, see if we can work something out. If not, they can leave."

"Schedule both of them?"

"Mr. Williams must come. The girl can come if she'd like. I'm about done with her, anyway. Robert says she sets Spike off, and girls are easy to come by. It's the beautiful men that take some effort to find." Melissa ran her fingers over her bottom lip contemplatively. "I've got a full day tomorrow, Arthur. Tell Marianne to give them a late appointment." She sauntered off, locking herself in her office at the end of the third floor corridor, not even waiting for Art's reply.

Art knocked at the door cautiously, fingers positively dancing. "Thank you!" Buffy's voice sounded relieved and gratified. Art popped his head around.

"You two- you always take me by surprise." Art laughed nervously.

"Yeah, well, you lot need to learn to knock." Spike crossed his arms defensively. "Come in and let's get this over with. How'd you want us?"

"Like you were." Arthur's eyes glowed with manic glee. "That was raw! That was real. 'She'll want to tear your clothes off!' , I can see the ad campaign now!"

"That was private." Buffy sounded embarrassed and shocked.

"Nothing's private in this world." Art laughed callously. "It's what sells. Whatever sells is what goes on display. I don't even need your body in the shot Ann, just your head and shoulders, crouching over him. Defending him."

"Hey!" Spike pointed an accusing finger. "I don't need defending!"

"Oh, yes. You do. You're her man. And every other female wants you."

"Not arguin' with that, but-"

"No buts! Just try it!" Arthur practically shouted, flinging his camera around his neck and striding to the couple.

Spike found himself flat on his back again, arms out like he was on the downward stroke of making a snow angel, and blinded by bright lights. He had a sudden vague flash back to being held down on an Initiative table, feeling a pinch in his arm, and then blackness. He took two deep, quick breaths, finding Buffy's eyes for a second before letting his head connect with the strangely stiff metallic drape sheet under him. She was there. He could relax.

Art asked her to look possessive and angry. He had no idea. She could feel Spike's abdominal muscles shake with suppressed laughter as Art made his request.

"Put your head just where it was when I walked in the first time."

"A smart man wouldn't bring that up." Spike warned, eyes still closed.

Art ignored him and walked over to them. He tilted Buffy's head and pressed it down flat against Spike's taut lower abs, tucked her hands in his waistband and mussed her hair roughly. "There. Now- give me big, soulful, angry, brooding eyes. Whatever you were thinking last time."

"You think you can just pose people like puppets?" Buffy demanded, clutching Spike's waistband. Think what she'd been thinking? I thought someone was going to walk in on us. I was angry, I was ashamed, I was scared- and I wanted to protect Spike, and I wanted him to protect me. I was confused, torn out of something warm and loving. Torn out of heaven, again.

"Yes! Blink, I love the big dark eyes, Ann. Are those tears? No one told me you acted as well."

Tears? Spike half sat and Buffy shoved her head more firmly into him, her hands tightening, popping the top button of the jeans, starting to expose the pale skin between his hips.

"Spike, lay back. Look enraptured. Look like you did when I first saw you- Ann, I love the ferocity, but lift your shoulders, I want to see more of that protecting crouch."

What I felt? Blimey, there was no way not to turn this into an X rated shoot, thinking like that. She felt warm, an' alive, an' for a second, I was alive again, too. She thinks I'm already dead, but the only death I ever felt was when she died an' she wasn't dead like me. Couldn't be with her- an' now she was back, alive, writhin' her head on me an' she'd just moaned. Moaned while wrapping her maddenin' tongue all over, all around me. For a second, I believed she loved me back.

Spike's chest heaved once, cresting towards the artificial sun, like he was getting his own taste of heaven. Buffy could feel him stiffen under her warm neck and hear the almost silent rasp of tears caught in his throat. I made him that happy. I made him feel something. I must be okay, right, if I can make something evil suddenly be good? Or does that mean I'm bad? Do I have to care, when he looks so happy?

"No! No smiles! Either of you. Keep it angry, keep it fiery! Ann, you're huddling over him, pulling him to you, because it's all about to get ripped away. And Spike- motionless. You're the one being worshipped today."

Art moved them a few times, but only slightly, thoroughly enamored of the strange desperation and longing on his subjects' faces. "This will be big." He muttered. There was just something so captivating about those two. A haunted look. An otherworldly look, almost. He didn't even care if the jeans label liked the poses and their limited range. He had a masterpiece of emotion in two faces.

At last he decided he couldn't capture anything more from them, and began packing up. "We're all trying to get out of here early tonight, so make it fast. Melissa has a lot to do on Sunday nights, especially weeks when we have an open call and a lot of freelance jobs." Art cleared his throat nervously. "Ask Marianne to make an appointment for you with Melissa."

"Melissa? Why?" Buffy asked.

"Melissa wants to speak with Spike. She said you could come if you wanted, Ann." Art looked at her with pity. "But she absolutely needs this meeting with Spike." Arthur turned and shut the door, leaving the two staring at each other.

Spike spoke first. "I do believe we've found our number seven."

Buffy bit her lip. "Hurry. Let's get dressed."

They threw the borrowed clothes hastily off and donned their own outfits, not caring if they dressed or undressed in full view of the other, too preoccupied to care.

Once in the lobby, Marianne greeted them with a strangely chilly smile and handed Spike an appointment card with their pay envelopes before he could even ask for them.

"Seven?" Spike asked nonchalantly, giving not impression of nerves, or that he might as well be wearing a sign that said "Sacrifice me" on it.

"Yes, Melissa should be free by then. All of our week's work goes out on Tuesday. On Sunday, Melissa pulls an all-nighter, getting the new assignments, on Monday, she prepares all the shoots for the week to go out in Tuesday morning's mail." Marianne explained.

"Right. Ta' then." Spike waved jauntily and walked out, Buffy following, "casing" the place with a mission in mind.

As they walked to the bike, Spike hissed to her, "Don't fret, Luv. They can't sacrifice me. Got no blood that isn't borrowed, heart's dead, brain's chipped, soul's gone- I'm virtually useless as a human sacrifice. Not human." He gave her a pained smile that hid under an air of carelessness.

"You're human. You just have a demon inside." Buffy whispered, hand nervously plucking the visor of her helmet as she swung it along. Spike swallowed his grateful disbelief, and spoke again.

"Be that as it may, ol' whatsit's face can't do much with me. But _you_ she can, so-"

"Oh no. Seriously, Spike? Are you dumb enough to try to talk me out of going with you?" Buffy put her free hand on her hip with an incredulous scowl.

"Yeah." Spike laughed. "Didn't think it'd work, but at least I can say I tried." He sighed and they slowly mounted the bike. "But I was hopin' I'd just sneak out there tonight, deal with it. Destroy our pictures, get the demon-human combo, and go."

"That plan's gonna have to wait until tomorrow." Buffy said firmly. "No over-night-Melissa-in-residence if we try to break into her office. Tomorrow we'll be given a way in. And we can still get the pictures, they won't have gone out."

Spike's senses jumped and sent more blood rushing to his lower regions as she got on behind him, this time making no pretenses about the need to sit close to him, just sliding up and molding her spread thighs to the backs of his. And he could feel the damp heat rising from her. Made it bloody difficult to think about strategy. But he would take one more stab at it, for the sake of appearances. Before he had to flat out ask her to finish what she'd started in the studio. Yeah. That'd go over_ rea_l well.

Buffy meanwhile was trying to reign in the sex-hungry part of her brain and think like a good little Slayer. Why wouldn't she send Spike in? She didn't feel like being the hero anymore, let him do it. And if he got taken out doing it, no more guilt-inducing Spike sexiness._ Are you kidding me? You'd use Spike as some kind of cannon fodder? What the hell's wrong with you? _

"You're probably right Buffy. If something did happen to me, not that it would, but then if you had to go in alone... Bit'd kill me. Reckon the only way you'd be goin' in alone is if I were already dead, but Bit isn't logical when she's angry." Spike tossed the comment back over his shoulder.

"Well, I can't let you go in alone, anyway. I mean, unless there wasn't a choice. If I let something happen to you, Dawn'd kill me, too."

"Nah, she'd just give you a ruddy good screamin' at." Spike laughed.

"With sobbing. When I talked to her on Saturday, she thought I'd staked you and she literally burst into tears. Silly of her."

Spike stiffened. Silly to cry over me. Yeah. Sure, it would be. To Buffy, president of the "Vampires Aren't Able to Love" club. "Yeah. Silly. It's your job to kill my kind, isn't it?" He said roughly.

"Huh? No! I mean, yes to it being my job, but no, not silly to cry over you. Silly of Dawn to think I'd stake you." Buffy tripped over her words in her hasty explanation.

"Oh." Spike relaxed against her again, relieved. "Not that I can blame Bit. Thought I was about to be staked more than once this weekend."

"Yeah, well..."

""Mind if I ask what made Bit think that?" Spike asked cautiously.

"It's private!" Buffy frowned. He nodded his head once and she sighed. "Fine. I was really upset. After-you went to the lobby and I'd given you the clothes. I called her and we talked. I said something about hurting you."

"An' she jumped to the conclusion 'hurt' meant staked?" Spike asked with evident disbelief. He knew Buffy didn't give Dawn enough credit, and she did do daft, immature things quite a lot, but she wasn't stupid.

"She asked me if I meant hurt you as in punched you or hurt you as in staked you, and I said that I hurt your heart." Buffy whispered. Spike cut the engine off. They were parked in the crowded shopping plaza near the butcher's.

"What was that, Precious?" Spike easily slid off the bike and turned to her. Buffy read his face for a minute, and deciding he wasn't being a jerk and just wanting to hear her awful confession again, she repeated herself.

"She asked me if I meant hurt you as in punched you or hurt you as in staked you. And I said that I hurt your heart." Buffy said in a slightly louder whisper.

"She thought you meant in the physical heart?" Spike asked softly, brushing his hand across her ruffled hair as the helmet was tugged off.

"Yeah. Then we talked and I explained. Emotional heart pain."

"Thought you told me I was heartless, Luv?" Spike whispered, pain in his eyes, but no accusatory rancor in his voice. She shrugged. "D'you still believe that?" He pressed, knowing that he was about to earn a flare up and not caring. "Do you?"

"Yes." She looked at him defiantly. Her eyes were like iced emeralds, and then they softened as they looked into his stormy blue eyes, full of hurt, full of frustration. "Vampires are heartless, and soulless. But you aren't. You- I don't know what you did that the rest didn't, Spike, but you- you are different."

He pulled her to him suddenly, knocking the air from her lungs and swallowing it as he kissed her hard. "Got a heart, Buffy. Plenty of heart, and all of it yours, Pet." He whispered as they pulled apart.

"Uh-huh." She replied, dizzy from the knee-weakening kiss and the lack of oxygen during it. Spike rumbled low in his chest, a soft laugh.

"C'mon. Let's get my dinner, an' then we'll get yours. But not the Italian place again. The garlic in there..." He took her hand and pulled her along to the shops, noticing that she still seemed dazed. "Buffy? What do you want for dinner, Luv?"

Buffy blinked and looked where they were at. The deli was near by. "I'll get a sandwich." She finally answered.

"No, Pet, that's not a proper-"

"Spike? Could we just hurry up?"

"What's up?" He paused, hearing the impatience and something else, not quite sure what, in her voice.

"I- um, I just wanted to-" She was starting to flush quite beautifully, Spike could see it, even in the darkness, and silently preened that he got to see the most amazing shows because of his vampire ability. "I want to get back to the hotel, okay?" She said in a rush, eyes closed, forcing the torrent of words out.

"Of course. We'll hurry." Spike quickened his pace. Does she mean what I think she means? She did just admit I'm not heartless. An' she doesn't want me dead. Hell must've frozen over, in which case the demon on the third floor should be a piece of cake tomorrow. But it'd take an ice age before Buffy'd want to hurry back in order to shag him. "You not feelin' well, Pet?"

"I just don't like being interrupted." She said significantly, pulling away from him to turn towards the deli. She looked back over her shoulder, and wet her lips. "Unless you don't-"

Spike stared over his shoulder and up at the sky with comic suddenness, a look of panic on his face. "What?" Buffy laughed at him.

"Nothin', Luv. Just checkin' for dinosaurs." He muttered before disappearing into the butcher's in a blur of black leather.

Buffy wrinkled her forehead as she took that in. "He's so weird." She went into the deli and ordered a turkey and cheese for herself and an extra large, extra rare roast beef for Spike. She felt herself getting wetter as she imagined what would happen as soon as they finished dinner- and she no longer wanted to eat. She wanted him. Right now, immediately if not sooner. He made her feel good. He made her feel loved. He made her feel alive.

She hurried back out, tunnel vision suddenly happening as her eyes locked on him. Time slowed down. This beast in black leather and ivory skin, a flash of fire at his finger tips and pale lips suddenly caressing a cigarette. Burning blue eyes locking on her, nostrils widening to let out smoke and take in her scent. Her wet scent, she was sure. His tongue curled and the cigarette flew away, stomped under a black boot as he started to walk to her. God, it was so wrong. A dead thing, an evil thing, made her feel alive.

"Slayer. Buffy." He kissed her hungrily, his silver ringed finger sliding up her cheeks and bringing her mouth to him, opening up to him.

"Spike." She found her hand pressing the back of his neck, pushing him against her, making his mouth open up more, all of him could open up more. If he could do it, could live in this hellhole of a world, so could she. "Take me home?"

"Yeah, Baby, Take you home." He slowly pulled away, only enough to get on the bike and adjust the bags holding their dinner, and they roared off.

Buffy couldn't imagine what the people in the hotel lobby thought, but she didn't particularly care. Spike had her against the door to their room, kissing her, nipping her lip, nipping her neck, one hand working it's way up her back and the other trying to unlock their door. "Sod it, gonna just break it in." He breathed against her.

"No! No interruptions. Need a door that locks." She quickly turned around and forced her mind to focus for two seconds to open the lock and retract the key. They tumbled inside, Spike shoving the door shut with a thump and both of them locking it, him grabbing the deadbolt, her slipping the chain into place.

And then they were falling backwards onto the nearest bed. Buffy realized she stopped thinking of the beds as "his" or "hers". They would share a bed. "The blood-" She gasped against him, as the plastic bags fell off the mattress. One of his arms left her body and fumbled over the side, setting the containers upright. "Shouldn't we put it in the fridge?" She worked his duster off over his shoulders, struggling to pull the sleeves down.

"Leave it." He rasped, hands on her hips, fighting her clothes off in one second and dragging his own off in the next. "I love you. I love you." He whispered, more emphatically on the second time.

"I know. I know- I'm glad." She hissed, the closest she could get to returning his affection at the moment. At least in words. "Get off me?" She whispered.

"Am I hurtin' you? No, I can't be, bug zapper in my noggin'." He laughed as he rolled to the side.

"On your back." She smiled.

"Ohh, kitten wants a ride, does she- oh. Ohhhh." Spike's suggestive pillow talk died away as her mouth slid over him again, and this time her moan against him was instantaneous. "Love it when you make noises on me, Pet. Vibrations down there- oh hell, woman, thought you didn't get up to these tricks with your last young man." Spike arched and his eyes fluttered shut.

Buffy bit him softly, glaring. She hated when he was right. She'd done this with Riley- but not at all like this. This- she seemed to be good at it. Maybe she was relaxed enough with Spike not to care if she was doing well. She was just doing whatever she wanted. But no need for him to bring her past inexperiences up.

"Ahh, God." Spike reached for her head and she twisted away. "You're amazin', Luv."

"The bite was supposed to make you behave. And instead you get grabby." Buffy scolded, momentarily leaving his member.

"Bite. Vampire." He licked his human teeth and smiled evilly. "Doesn't help me behave, Pet." He cupped her head, just around her ear, gently, wrapping her hair around his fingers. "But I didn't mean to grab. Jus' can't believe you keep lettin' me be with you. Gotta touch you, make sure you don't disappear, like you do every night from my dreams."

"Oh." Buffy let him touch her, and returned to licking and sucking her way all over him. "You can feel this, right?"

"Yes." He gasped. "But sometimes you do this in my dreams."

"Eww!" Buffy laughed at him, but didn't stop her loving attentions.

"Can't help it. What happens when you love someone so bleedin' much, an' you know you can't have 'em in the wakin' world."

"You can have me." Buffy said without thinking. "I- well- I mean_ this_."

"I know. I know what you mean." Spike laid back and closed his eyes, hand falling from her face. Might as well enjoy it. Might as well take this wonderful gift he was getting, even if it was just one more night, one more memory to store up for his lonely eternity. He wouldn't give up.

"Spike?" Buffy wiped her wet lips and looked up at him.

"Yeah, Precious?" He said in breathless, but slightly weary voice.

"Just- I do like this. With you. I just wanted you to know." And then she refocused on his cock, slurping him into her mouth with ferocity, stealing any tender response he might have made to her confession, replacing it with a gasp. And she kept making him writhe, delighted with her prowess and loving, yes actually loving, watching him. She could get lost in this, in him, make the world drop away...

"Stop, stop, Pet." Spike was suddenly wrenching her head up, jaw tight and eyes shut.

"Why? What'd I do?" Buffy gasped out.

"Gonna make me cum."

"Oh." She gently pulled her head from his hand and returned to more erotic parts.

"Buffy!" Now he sounded annoyed. "I'm not bleedin' kiddin', I'm not made of metal, I can't switch it off!"

"Who's asking you to?" She dove again.

"You'll kill me if I do this, is that your plan?" He demanded. "Gotta admit, not a bad way to go out, but I-" She slowly sucked on his tip and he lost his train of thought momentarily. "Okay, so even if you're not gonna plunge the stake in, I haven't satisfied you yet, an' I like to finish the job."

"It's okay. I think you'll get a second wind in a minute. Besides- you told me a person doesn't always have to get something to give something. Let me give." It was a simple request, and one that he knew cost her. Went against her nature, and went against the hollow feeling she'd had ever since returning from the grave.

She's doin' it for me. I dunno why. I don't care why. I just know- he looked down at her, and her eyes were on him. Eyes focused on him, mouth on him, hands digging in gently on his thighs. I just know she is doin' it for some reason, an' that I love her.

"Urghhhh, Ughhh! Love you. Buffy, love you." He came suddenly, in hard spurts. She'd felt him tense just before, and she was ready for it. Sort of. All the sudden there was something wet and and slightly bitter in her mouth. She swallowed reflexively and then her eyes bugged out.

"Oh my God! What'd I just do?" She clapped a hand over her mouth. Spike groaned.

"I'm sorry, Luv, I did try and tell you." He didn't move. His girl knew how to kill the mood.

"Oh no. Not that." Buffy crawled up beside him. He looked surprised and relieved. She blushed and pointed to her mouth and drew an invisible line down her throat.

"Never did that?" He asked softly. She shook her head. "You deserve special attention then." He glowed at her, and they easily switched roles, him pleasing her with his nimble and enthusiastic tongue, making her forget everything but that she had an ache deep inside. She desperately needed to get the ball of burning tension inside her put out. She whimpered and resisted her orgasm.

"Cum for me, Luv. Come on, want to thank you properly." He encouraged, working a tentative finger inside her.

"No! No, please, I need you inside." Buffy pulled him up, struggling under him, wanting him inside urgently.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, watching her writhe, her face pained.

"No." She whimpered. "No, Spike- it hurts, inside. I- my muscles, they're all locked up and they actually _hurt_, I never had a pain like that." She dug her hands into him. "Make it stop." She sounded panicked and he hated it. He held her close, seeking out the knotted muscles inside her with himself.

"I can, I can help. I understand, Luv." He kissed her gently. "I get the same pain."

"What is it?" She asked, already knowing the answer and hating it.

"When you need the person you love." He whispered. "When you have to have 'em, be inside them, have 'em inside you, or you feel like the fire'll never be put out?"

"Yes, like that- ohhhh God, Spike." He slid home much harder than he ever had before, making her wince and then thrust back, needing him more.

"No, Luv, softly. Don't hurt yourself. I'll find the nasty fire and put it out for you." He murmured in her ear.

"I don't wanna love you." She suddenly gasped, hating him for making her confused, and for making the pain ease. For taking her pain away softly, not letting her scrape them along in some semblance of sex, turning it back into love making.

"I know. I know you don't." He whispered into her neck.

"You don't want to love me." She hissed, nails digging into his lower back as he worked deeper into her.

"Didn't. Do now." He panted. She was tight, she was crushing him, crushing herself, fighting him from the inside, but pulling him in like she was drowning. "Poor little lost girl." He breathed.

"I can't love you." She bit her lip.

"I know. I know it." Spike suddenly looked up at her,head moving from her neck. "I know you can't _say_ it. That's fine. In your own time, Pet. But-" He grit his teeth, still fighting her contracted walls. "What if you just think it for a second, see if it helps?"

She didn't speak. She'd never admit that she was thinking "I love Spike" inside her mind. It was ridiculous. But this stupid pain had to stop, and he was trying so hard to help her... _Someday. Someday, there might be a way. That I could love him._

A dam broke inside her, and he found her soft, slick center, pulsing hard around him, knowing he probably had hurt her with that last thrust. But no. Couldn't have. No blasts from the chip. Head still mercifully in the clouds, watching his beautiful girl make love to him.

That was it, Spike realized with a jolt, with suddenly moist eyes. _She just let me in. _Not her body. In her heart_. She loves me._


	7. Chapter 7

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive responses so far! _

_This chapter dedicated to Idiosyncratic Delusions, iSage, Hannah the Bloody, and of course, Lithium Reaper, who found the art to inspire the piece._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part VII

"D-did the bed move? A little?" Buffy's voice was dazed.

"I dunno, Luv." Spike panted as he rolled off her. "More'n likely." He swallowed all the things he was dying to say. That he'd felt her change, felt her give in, felt her start to love him in that one second. And that's when his confidence came back and his hesitation fled. That was when he took control of her fully, in a good way, knowing that if she loved him, nothing could be wrong in their beautiful act. Hence, the shagged out, satisfied couple intertwined on the bed, and the possible bed movement. If I say that I know, she'll run, she'll react, she'll wound. Best to let her drive this ride.

Oh, God. I let myself say it, Buffy moaned internally. In my mind, but still... When I thought that I loved him, and the pain stopped, I could let him in, and we- we did something new. I don't know what that was, but wow. She tried to pinpoint it. It was like her first time, but on steroids. All the love and passion of her one and only night with Angel, churning around with a couple years of her own skill, a lot fewer inhibitions, and a solid, if odd friendship, with Spike. "Um. Did your pain stop?"

"Yeah, Pet. Feel wonderful." Spike held her close, shocked that she wasn't resisting yet. "Did yours?" She nodded mutely. "Was it- was it thinkin' about what I said? Just thinkin' it, without sayin' it?" He kept his voice extremely low and gentle, no pressure, no push. She lay still against him for a long minute, but he was patient. Another first, he laughed in his head. Eventually, he felt her move. A single nod. He sighed happily and gathered her closer still.

"B-but that was just a thought." She whispered.

"I understand." Spike replied. And he did. Admitting she even _thought_ about loving him was miraculous. Hearing her say it, or recognizing what her thoughts meant, could wait.

"Hurts again?" Spike whispered after a few moments of pretending to ignore her restless hips and shifting legs.

"Did you do something to me?" Buffy demanded.

"Like what, Luv?" Spike kept his voice cool and didn't rise to her defensiveness. That was how she played. Push him away when he got close, when she let herself get close. Didn't do to let the world get too comfy, if you didn't like bein' back in it.

"I don't know." She said quietly after a minute. "I know you wouldn't do it on purpose, anyway." She admitted.

"I'm glad you know." Spike sounded humble, not in the least cocky, although he surely did feel that way. But he was a gambler, he was a predator. He knew how to play to get what he wanted, and he wanted, with all his heart, the love and trust of the woman beside him. "Do anything for you, Buffy."

"I'd just be using you. To make the pain stop." She looked up at him, and then away.

"I'm yours. You use me how you want. But the pain won't stop, Pet, jus' from us doin' a bit of the bump an' grind. It didn't stop, did it, until you-" He cocked his scarred brow significantly at her, "thought something?"

"I didn't want to think that." She hissed.

"I know, Luv."

"And I didn't- I didn't..." She couldn't say "I didn't mean it", as she wanted to. The lie wouldn't come this time.

"You didn't?" Spike's voice was tight. She'd know. She'd know whether or not she loved him, wouldn't she? Could she have gotten so good at foolin' everyone that she'd begun to fool herself? Or was he so besotted he'd begun to see things that weren't there?

"I didn't_ want _to mean it." She breathed miserably. Spike jostled her head out of its resting place, forcing it up to meet his gaze. "I didn't _mean_ to feel anything."

She looks tired. Pained. Defeated. Never seen that look- except for once. When Glory took Dawn. No. Can't let her go, can't let her drift back into herself, not when she'd started her long road home to the land of the living. But he didn't know what he could do to help. Everything he'd done, everything he'd given, tried, said, had only gotten her this far. "I don't know what to say, Luv. 'M sorry." He murmured quietly.

He looks beaten. And hurt. Like me? "Do you feel like this? That pain?" She whispered, her hand involuntarily stroking a circle on one porcelain pectoral.

He sighed. Well, he couldn't do much good by lyin', and he didn't seem to do much good with the truth, might as well say what he wanted. "All the time, Pet." He gave her a slight smile. "For over a year now. Sometimes it lessens. When I'm fightin'. When I'm with Bit." He looked into her eyes, his own suddenly blazing. "When I'm close to you. Ah, but that's a toss up. Sometimes it's worse, sometimes it's better."

"You've been in this kind of pain for a year?" Buffy pressed closer to him, again, unconsciously. "God, Spike... How do you stand it?"

"I dunno, Pet. Got no alternative if I wanna stay with you an' Bit."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I can't- I mean, that I don't-"

"Stop." Spike's voice hardened reflexively. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, turning his head away form the verbal sting she unfailingly delivered. "Don't, Buffy. Don't say you _don't_ love me, don't say you_ can't_ love me, don't say you don't_ mean_ it." He opened his eyes, and they were far from hard, they were about to overflow. " 'Cause I jus' can't take it. Couldn't hear what you were thinkin', but I could sure as hell feel it."

She didn't mean to do what she did next, either. She didn't speak, but she moved, wriggling up to him, pulling his head to hers, mouth fastening on to his. She breathed into him, breathed for him. Give him life, he's more alive than you are...

Her hand pressed up to rest between his navel and his sparse dark hairs. Pressed hard, but not roughly. "Is that where it hurts?" She whispered between her desperate kisses.

"Close enough." Spike gasped out.

"That's where mine feels like it is, only from the inside." They wrestled into position, his hand now rubbing her lower abdomen.

"Better?"

"No..." She admitted.

"You know what you have to do." He whispered.

"I know." She arched up and he entered her, his face spasming as his lukewarm rod was engulfed in a soaking sauna of flesh. But he didn't feel the relaxation of last time. She was holding back again. Only letting him in her body, her heart was doing its best to shove him away.

Dammit. He was right. The pain ebbed but didn't disappear unless she let go. Her body'd gotten its fix, it was time to go beyond that.

"It's okay, Luv." Spike held her and rocked into her slowly. He bent his head and nibbled her earlobe slightly. "Pretend I don't know what you're thinkin', you're good at that."

"Jerk." She hissed and kissed him again, passionately, fully, surprising him. "I can think it. If I want. You just have to say it first." She blushingly demanded.

"I love you, Buffy." He confessed easily, for about the hundredth time.

"I-" She stopped short, but her body blossomed open around him.

"Yessss." He let out a deep, relieved breath.

"Ooohhhhhh." Her moan was completely uninhibited and she couldn't hide it. His forehead was on hers, and she could feel his soft puffs of air on her cheek as he laughed. "Hey." She fluttered her eyes open long enough to give him a disapproving look.

"You thought it, Pet." She didn't deny it and he kissed her with a smile. "You don't have to say it." He nuzzled their cheeks together before pulling back again to smile into her eyes. This time the grin was cocky, but warm. "You don't have to say anythin'- yet."

Giles started up from where he'd dozed off with a sharp intake of breath, head on an open text. Melissa. Melissa Modeling, Melissa was the one with the ancient evil undertones. Something nagged at the back of his mind. God. Goddess. Youth. Beauty. Melissa. Servant. Servant of a goddess of youth and beauty. "Oh, dear Lord!" He gasped and sprang from his chair. "Just want to double check- and then I'l call."

Spike's hands captured hers for leverage, her hips open and up, legs high on his his sides. "More, Luv, that's it." He coaxed her farther and farther out of her safe haven, her moans and her embraces becoming more and more frenzied as they worked together.

Her legs twined around his calves suddenly and she bucked hard, climaxing with a deep, relaxed groan. Spike closed his eyes and groaned in response, letting her spasming channel caress him, drive him to the point where he had to release- but didn't. "Love watchin' you." He panted, as Buffy's hips sank back down to the bed.

"You- you didn't?" She panted back, trying to feel the burst of wetness inside her and not finding it.

"Oh, I will, Luv. You're just so delicious, Precious, wanna stay in for longer." He smirked. The word "delicious" earned him a sudden twitch and a slightly wary look. "Not like that." He laughed.

"I know!" She protested hotly, ashamed she was so transparent. And also figuring if he knew her so well, it was probably obvious to him by now that she was starting to- she was so furious with herself- starting to more than care. That stupid L-word, which should in no way belong to Spike, was crashing around in her head whenever he said the thousands of sweet things he did, or brought her to ecstasy. Honestly, for the way he made her feel these past two times, she almost felt he _deserved _to be told. But she wouldn't. She didn't have to admit it to him, even if she was sure he knew. She didn't have to admit it to him with words, but she could let him know...

Well, this was new, Spike thought with a pleased smile. Her arms pulled him down to rest on her chest, and went up, around his shoulders and neck, hands gently kneading and petting him. She wants to hold me. His rhythm slowed, and he expected her to thrust back into him hard, restarting their usual marathon pace.

"Spike..." her voice murmured at his cheek.

"Buffy. Love you, Pet." He breathed, relaxing against her more than he'd ever allowed himself. She squeezed him hard, a full body embrace, her arms, legs, and other delectable parts all trapping him, loving him. "Thought you didn't like it when I told you that?" He whispered teasingly. Her shoulders rose and fell, and he felt her tense. "Poor lamb. I won't tease. I do love you, love you more an' more, even if you don't want to tell me." He soothed, rewarded by her desperately clinging to him.

"I do like- knowing that you do. I know it's wrong, and bad, and that you can't- but somehow you do love me. And I-I think I like that." Buffy winced as she admitted it, and kept his pressed down alongside hers, so he couldn't look in her eyes, couldn't see her face, only hear her and feel her.

"I'm glad, Luv." Spike licked her earlobe gently, nibbling his way down her neck.

"Spike..."

"Yes, Luv?" He muttered around a mouthful of her sweet silken skin.

"Cum in me. I want you to. I want you to- feel like you make me feel." She winced again, asking for that. She'd never _asked_ for that and she was absolutely sure it was something only people in smutty movies said- but she didn't care. She was sure it had something to do with the fact that she was broken and no longer playing by the rules of this hell-like existence, or the fact that he was an evil, soulless lover, who could get inside her mind and make her feel and think a thousand wrong things.

"I will, Luv." Spike reassured. "It's a promise." His head fought her hands to loosen their hold, and turned to kiss, take her mouth with his tongue like he was taking other parts of her with his fingers and his manhood. I just wish she'd bloody say it to me, he thought through the waves of his building pleasure. If she wants me to let it loose, that'd damn near cause a tidal wave.

"My Spike." He heard her breathe, felt her lips form the words against his. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers. Shy eyes. Guilty eyes. But eyes that didn't slide away.

"Say it." He whispered.

"I can't." She replied with a little half-sob.

"Think it- when you're lookin' into my eyes?" He pleaded, not caring if it was stupid, or pathetic. It was the closest he could get to something he wanted more than anything in the world.

He'd expected her to refuse, but she didn't. She nodded, almost eagerly, and he felt her fingers trace back up his torso, thread through his hair, holding his head firmly to hers. "My Spike." She whispered again, and closed her eyes once, before reopening them, letting those tumultuous green eyes convey everything she was thinking.

He took a risk. Hell, everything he'd done in the last 120 some years was a risk. "I love you, too." He added the "too" on, as if he could hear the words in her head. She didn't push him away. She shuddered around him, and he released, with a sudden hard thrust of his hips and a sharp gasp from both of them.

They were holding each other in a stunned silence when the phone rang. It was a monument to how dazed and passion-addled they were that Buffy didn't spring up guiltily. Spike automatically reached for the phone and answered it.

" 'Lo?" He said in a slightly lower voice than usual. He spotted the bag with Buffy's dinner in it and absently picked it up and passed it to her as he waited for the caller on the other end to identify itself. "Hullo?" He repeated.

"Spike?" The voice on the other end was able to put a note of revulsion, dismay, and disbelief into his name. Ah. So that's where Buffy'd learned that trick. Not that she was sayin' his name like that _now_.

"Rupes. We were just about to call, got in a bit later than we planned." Spike felt Buffy stir beside him, but it wasn't frantic. It was almost like she was moving underwater, but her face didn't look dazed. Spike studied her. She was aware of everything. Why wasn't she leggin' it far from him a soon as the disapproving tone of the Watcher struck her ears?

"What are you doing in her room?"

"I asked him to come in." Buffy replied for Spike. "What's up, Giles?"

"I've been a bloody fool." Giles began.

"An' no surprise from this quarter, mate." Spike laughed.

"Spike, stop." Buffy handed him the roast beef sandwich she'd gotten for him and he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Ta' Luv."

"Go on, Giles. What'd you find out? Is it about this demon lady?"

"It is. I'm an idiot. Melissa. Melissa Modeling. A goddess of youth, beauty, and love." Giles spoke in a leading voice, clearly expecting them to leap to some conclusion based on his string of words.

"Be a bit more specific, Rupes?" Spike asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Are you just now eating? It's almost 8:00." Giles lectured.

"Giles. Focus." Buffy redirected.

"Oh, yes. Don't either of you know any ancient Greek history?"

"Bags of it. D'you want me to tell you about the Peloponnesian War or something less gory?" Spike grumped at the exasperated sounding Watcher.

"What do you know about the order of Aphrodite?"

"Ohh! I know, I know." Buffy jumped in, tired of being left out. "She's the love goddess. And she was born in a half-shell, right? Or something. Something about a half-shell." She looked to Spike uncertainly and he nodded. "That's mythology, though."

Uh, Luv? You're sittin' next to a vampire, huntin' a demon." Spike pointed out. He leaned across her and grabbed his blood from the floor, eased up from the bed and went to put it in the microwave.

"Okay, so Aphrodite is real? There's a love goddess?" Buffy looked aghast. "_She's_ got a warped and twisted mind..."

" 'Real' might be a stretch these days. But at one time, yes. She's a goddess no longer functioning in our time. But she still has followers, and she did once exist in this realm." Giles concluded triumphantly. "Priestesses of Aphrodite are called the Melissae."

"Plural of Melissa?" Spike clarified.

"Melissa? Lots of girls are named Melissa." Buffy protested.

"Not a lot of them run an agency where beautiful people have started disappearing." Spike commented. "Plus, she wasn't just a goddess of love, she was all about the beauty, wasn't she?"

"And her symbol, well one of her symbols, was the mirror." Giles stated ominously.

"That's the link? Wouldn't it have to be a special mirror?" Buffy mused. "I mean, if only one mirror is the linky thingy, why have _all_ the mirrors taken out? Why leave the ones in the bathroom off the lobby?"

"An' why the missin' people? Never heard of blood sacrifices bein' required by a love goddess- not unless it was something from a demon-like dimension."

"Yeah, and aren't priestesses supposed to be good? Say masses and stuff? Why would they start kidnapping people?" Buffy fired off.

"If you'd both stop yammering, I could attempt to answer your excellent questions." Giles finally broke in. The blondes fell silent, munching and drinking the last of their hasty supper. "Firstly, there _should_ be a particular mirror used as the link to the deity, but gods and goddesses are known to act through their symbolic items. Possibly Aphrodite could reach out or contact this woman through any mirror. That would arouse plenty of suspicion if the wrong person saw it. This creature must be fairly sure she'll never go near the room where mirrors are kept."

"She does seem to keep to the third floor. When we saw her in the lobby she was fairly plowin' through the place." Spike nodded at Buffy.

Giles paused and they heard the rustling of paper. "To answer your second question, I haven't found anything to indicate that this particular goddess requires any sacrifice, only devotion. And thirdly, Melissite demons are extremely, extremely rare. For one thing, the order of Aphrodite was active long before Christ, so well over 2,000 years ago. For something mortal to have remained alive so long..." He trailed off uneasily.

"She's not afraid to get her hands dirty." Spike finished dryly, looking at Buffy.

"Quite."

"So- we have to find the link and destroy it?" Buffy brought them back to survival mode.

"Yes. Destroy it, or anything that could be used as it. All mirrors. And if you aren't able to destroy it- get her to open the gateway."

"What?" Spike and Buffy chimed.

"The gateway. She's got to have a gateway to offer the sacrifices. Aphrodite no longer functions in this realm, so the sacrifices have to get to her somehow. I'd suspect the mirror is the portal, or gateway, for the sacrifices. If you can't destroy the mirror- get her through it." Giles paused. "But don't open it unless you've got her disabled in some manner. If she's still moving-" He trailed off, and Buffy could hear him searching for suitably dire but calm sounding phrases.

"If she's still up an' about, one of us could go for a little trip, not her?" Spike supplied.

"Yes." Giles said with finality. "Now, give me a moment, and I can get everyone over here, form a plan. We can all drive over if need be- I'm sure that-"

Buffy cut him off. "No. This isn't a 'charge in' type of mission. This needs stealth. A surgical strike. We'll handle it."

"Are you certain? How about if only Willow and Tara came?"

"I'm sure, Giles. I'll handle it. Spike and I will handle it." She corrected grudgingly.

"If you're sure, I'll leave you to the planning. But call if you change your mind. And Buffy?"

"Yes, Giles?" She smiled, already knowing what his parting words would be.

"Be careful."

"Bye, Giles." She hung up softly. She didn't promise to be careful. She promised to get the job done.

The click of metal striking a flame jarred her as she was sinking into a reverie. Spike was lighting up, looking at her with raised brows. "Got a little problem, Luv."

"I know." She whispered.

"Think it's me she wants?" Spike asked with supreme unconcern.

"Yeah. Guess she doesn't realize you're a vamp."

"Guess not. An' when she does, she'll turn right to the pretty little human beside me. Let me go in alone, Buffy." He inhaled a long drag.

"No! No." Buffy shook her head vehemently. "You'd just get hurt anyway, and I'd still go in after you."

"Think so little of my chances, Pet?"

"Two on one is better odds, that's all." She would never admit that she wanted to go in alone, get taken out and whisked away quickly, painfully or painlessly, but away, back to heaven. Nor would she admit that her heart felt constricted at the thought of something taking Spike from her. He was part of her life. Comfortable. Yes, only comfortable.

"Gettin' to be a gambler, Luv?" He gave her a lustful leer. "Got time for a few hands?"

"Spike- this is serious. She wants one of us, probably you, as some sort of goddess treat."

"Well, I _am_ pretty tasty, wouldn't you say, Precious?"

"Spike!" She hated him for making her laugh when she should be serious, when he should be worried.

"Ah, Luv, listen. We go in together. We may go out together. Or just one of us. An' it's got to be me this time. I failed once, I won't do it again. No, don't interrupt me." He shushed her as she opened her mouth in protest. "But if we've only got a day left, I say we get our plan together, an' then we enjoy ourselves."

"Enjoy ourselves?" She sounded aghast. She'd faced many apocalyptic nights before, and they'd never been spent in doing all the last minute revelries usually associated with such things. She'd spent it preparing, training, working, researching. And had it helped? Not so much. Died twice.

"If I gotta go, like to go with your kiss on my lips." He said, coming to her, softly caressing her slightly swollen mouth. She leaned up to him hesitantly, letting him take what he wanted, before pulling back and looking at him determinedly.

"No one has to go. We can prepare. We can plan. It's _us_, Spike. We kick ass."

He knew she didn't mean what she said, not all of it. Big battles were now taken with a "Go ahead and kill me." attitude. She knew she was mortal, that she could die. And she knew that twice she hadn't been allowed to rest. It made her brash, it made her bleak, but she kept on going. "Fine, Slayer. Let's plan then." He gave her a suddenly bright, boyish smile, head cocked and blue eyes aglow. "But if we win- we get to celebrate, right?"

"Right." She agreed with a similarly twinkling smile. _If we win. Without one of us dying for real._ "After we take down her evilness. Not before." She said firmly. Because she was caving. If she made love to him one more time, that'd be it. She would say it, even if she didn't mean it, because he made her feel so good ,and she cared about his happiness and wanted to give back something. Because she was starting to see he had a heart- for her anyway._ Isn't that love, stupid? _asked her annoyingly reasonable voice. "Shut up!" She said emphatically, eyes rolled up and looking completely pissed at herself.

Spike shook his head. "Know you said you came back with pieces missin' Buffy, but one of 'em wasn't your brain, was it?"

"No!" She crossed her arms angrily. And then laughed, because Spike, and only Spike, would dare insult at an already furious Slayer, and intend it to be meant in friendship. Quite a guy. "Well- maybe. I mean, I did sleep with_ you_. Gotta be insane."

"Must be catchin' then, 'cause I wanted to do it as well." He sat back beside her on the bed. "So. Here we go then. Into the fray."

"Stop." She pushed him away with a soft denial.

"Already, then?" He whispered, slowly taking his arm from hers.

"N-no." She admitted, eyes contrite. "I just need to plan. I can't plan when you're all naked and near me."

"I'm dead flattered." He smirked. "I'll put my clothes on, Pet. You feel free to stay as you are."

"Yeah, right." She snorted and slowly began to rummage for clean clothes, trying not to watch him as he moved, unconsciously flexing and rippling, her very own god of love and beauty. He turned his head in time catch her peeking and watched her eyes dart away guiltily. He laughed under his breath and Buffy cursed him, and herself, for being so damnably attracted.

He flopped back across the bed that hadn't been rumpled in their fevered lovemaking. Flopped back with a far too pleased grin on his face and watched her dress.

"What are you staring at?" She grunted as she pulled a tank top on over her slightly achey torso, nipples still hard from the chill of the room and sitting bare for so long. Or maybe hard from all the sweet suckling kisses he lavished on her.

"You. Told you how beautiful you are, Luv. In an' out of clothes, although I admit I like 'em off better than on."

"You're not focusing!" Buffy blushed and turned her back.

"I am. I bloody well am." He licked his lips. "You've got the perfect little bum, Slayer. Long legs for someone so small. The perfect package an' I got to unwrap you. For a few days at least." His voice dropped an octave on the last sentence, murky and full of sadness as he imagined the promises they'd made in this safe haven, promises to try, to care, to feel again, being broken as soon as the real world demanded her full attention again. An' she'd give it. Right up 'til the moment it killed her.

"It's better than nothing, right?" She said in a small voice, now fully clothed, sitting on the bed with him, but carefully not touching him.

"I asked your Army bloke about that. What was better- havin' you without your love, knowin' what you had wasn't really real. Or just watchin', but not havin' you, not havin' the hurt that comes along with you." He laughed bitterly and looked up. "We agreed. For the one an' only time ever. What he had with you, havin' any part of you, was the best thing in the world."

He stopped abruptly, jaw clenched, head sinking slowly to his chest. "And?" Buffy asked, breaking the silence in a nervous voice. Silly woman, still thought that, even now, someone'd be stupid enough to throw her away. He looked up at her, smile quirking up half his lips, eyes brimming.

"He was right. The best bloody thing in the whole soddin' universe. Hurts like a bloody bitch when it goes away."

"Hey! Hey!" Buffy suddenly shook his arm hard. "It's not going away! It's not dead yet! We're not dead yet!" She couldn't take watching him give up, even if privately she agreed with him. He grinned at her more broadly, watching her fire start to return. "Okay-so we are. Technically. But we're alive, too. We're still here. So we still have a chance. For everything. For- for anything." He turned his hand palm up where it lay near hers on the quilt. She gently placed her own in it, and let his fingers curl, sealing them together. She shuddered. Hurts to feel. Hurts to fight the peaceful end. But for the first time in a long, long time, the pain of leaving the world was rivaling the pain of staying in it.

"Right. Plans." Spike squared his shoulders and she relaxed hers. They would try.

For a couple who could make love so passionately, it was nothing compared to the way they could argue. "_You_ are a soddin', stupid, blonde bint!" Spike hissed.

"And _you_ are a pig headed, perverted, idiotic dead guy. And _blonde_? Hello,_ my_ blonde is nothing compared to _your_ blonde!" Buffy shoved him.

"Least mine is unique!"

"Ever hear of Billy Idol?"

"That wanker stole it from me!" Spike yanked her wrist as she attempted another shove, and they both fell onto the floor.

"Ow!"

"Bloody hell." Spike shifted around, trying to help her up. She made a pained yelp as his knee connected with hers. "Sorry, Pet." He gasped and winced as he imagined the warning zap of his chip, which mercifully hadn't fired. Maybe because it wasn't an intentional injury.

"I'm sorry, too." Buffy heaved herself up and they crawled back up on the bed. "Did you get zapped?"

"Nah." Spike said easily, laying down again. It was half past ten now, and they'd had the same damn argument twenty times, over an' over, in a soddin' circle. "Look, Luv- you call the shots. We'll do it your way. An' if you get your petite cheeks kicked-"

"You'll kiss it and make it better?" She gave him a flirtatious mini-smirk.

"Well- yeah, alright." Spike agreed with a lovesick smirk of his own.

"We'd better get some sleep now. I'll set the alarm." Buffy stopped looking at him, feeling herself start to ache, looking at the sweet expression on his face.

"If we want to get up at 3:30,_ I'll _set the alarm." Spike reached for the bedside radio.

"I can set an alarm." Buffy squawked.

"I'm sure, Luv, but we do want to get up 3:30 in the wee hours, not tomorrow in time for tea."

"Arrogant vampire." Buffy muttered, and paused beside the bed, hesitating halfway between up and down. Spike set the alarm and began rolling his shirt up over his head.

"Takin' the other bed, Pet, or are we sharin'?"

"No hanky-panky?" She asked warily.

"I'll take the other bed." Spike sighed and pushed gently past her.

"W-What? Why?" She asked in clear surprise.

" 'Cause I don't wanna get pushed away tonight, Luv." He sighed. Then turned back. "But who'm I kiddin'? I'd sleep on glass beside you if I were near you. Push whatever you like, Precious, I'll keep comin' back." He boldly unsnapped his jeans, kicked them to the floor and slid under the cover. "Come on in. I don't bite. Not anymore, anyway." He laughed cheekily.

Buffy turned off the light and reluctantly crawled in beside him, rolling automatically into his arms. After a few moments of silence she shot up and slapped the lights back on. "We forgot to call Dawn!"

"Hell." Spike groaned. They made a quick call to the half-asleep teen, and then resumed their awkward silence.

"I can't sleep." Buffy finally said.

"I know." Spike sighed.

"We should go over the plan."

"No, we bloody shouldn't." Spike groaned, getting up with a huff and wrenching the mini bar door open, taking out a miniature bottle of something alcoholic to kill the aches in his head and his groin that were rapidly spreading to meet in the middle.

"Well, part of it's your idea!" Buffy sat up. "Are you drinking?"

"Yes, an' I'm about to light up as well. I know the ruddy plan. 4:00 AM. Buffy and Spike break in the same way they did before, figurin' that Mrs. Evil's out by now. They storm to the third floor, punchin' in the alarm box, race to the end of the third floor hallway, treat that alarm to the same fate as its mate, kick the door in, an' smash every soddin' mirror in the place."

"And if that fails-"

"We torch the place." Spike took a long swig and passed her the bottle.

"No. Buffy and alcohol do not mix."

"Suit yourself, Luv." Spike grinned and took another swallow. "So. Do I pass the inquisition?"

"It doesn't seem like a very complex plan. And she'll probably still be there."

"Doesn't need to be complex. Jus' needs to work." Spike pushed the bottle away and laid back, trying to get comfortable. Trying to get certain parts of him to settle down and stop trying to push her. She'd come so far in a few days, and it had been wonderful. He was a selfish bastard, but he needn't show her that. "If she's still there, we'll sort her. I'm not gonna let anything happen to us. Bit needs us. At least one of us has to make it out."

"I know." Buffy whispered. One of us. So maybe... maybe what Spike said made sense. Better to spend the night before any battle doing what you love. With the person you- cared for. Or more than cared for. "Spike?"

"Yes, Luv?" Spike rolled from his back to his side to face her.

"If you wanted to try anything, I wouldn't push you away."

"Is that so?" He reached a hand up and rested it on her cheek, fondling the edge of her lips with his thumb. "Is that code for you want me?"

"No." She smacked his hand off, and then grabbed it back. "Sorry. Reflex. I didn't mean to push you away. Oh, God, Spike. I can't even do what I mean to for ten seconds! " She suddenly gasped, a choking cry in her throat. "I didn't mean to..."

"Oh, Baby. It's fine. It's all fine, Buffy." Spike took her firmly into his arms. "Stop pushin' yourself. An' I'll stop it as well. I shouldn't 've asked you to say it earlier, when I know you probably don't mean it." He stroked her hair soothingly and held her tight.

"I do mean it, though." She whispered. "But I can't, Spike. I can't say it."

"Say it again." Spike gazed at her, enraptured.

"I just said that I can't!"

"No, not that. I know you can't- yet. Say it again, that you mean it."

Instead she kissed him hungrily, and he started tearing her clothes up or down as needed, anything to get her out of them. "I love you. I'm not gonna hold you to it." He encouraged, seizing her under her waist, lifting her up.

"I don't want it to be like that. I'll say it someday, when I'm ready." She gasped. And bit her lip. I've lost. He's beaten me. I fell for him. I feel for him. I've gone over to the dark side, any minute now I'll be getting my official villain cape.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Buffy." Spike's voice was insistent as he watched her face take on an even more troubled than usual look.

"I'm in - I've gone to the dark side. Or- I want to go..."

"No, Luv, that's not it." Spike laughed softly. "I'm goin' towards the good side- for you."

"I _will _hold you to that." She warned.

"Don't I know it." His finger reached down and teased her swollen pink lips apart. "Here. Come to me." He left his finger tantalizingly near her entrance without going in. "Come to me, Luv." She moved her hips gingerly and he burrowed inside. "I'm just a little something inside you, Buffy. Some little piece that calls out to you, that if you stay, we might be able to muddle through things." She moaned as a second finger gently joined the first and began its particular brand of sexual witchcraft. "But you-" Spike's voice dropped, huskier, no longer calming, definitely sexual now. "You're my blood, Buffy, that isn't supposed to race, but it does when I look at you. You're the heart you claim I can't use. The breath I don't need unless I'm watchin' you. You're the soul you say I don't have." He withdrew his fingers and took her hand to hold it to his heart. "What do you feel, Luv?"

"I know, Spike, all the things you say, it's just-"

"No, Pet. What do you _feel_?" Spike repeated more pointedly.

She felt half-chilled skin. She felt no pulse. No warmth. No life. "Nothing." She whispered, wondering if this were all some elaborate joke, forcing her to admit she felt "nothing" for him, but that she was falling in love with him. "Nothin- Spike!"

The vampire on top of her had gone dead still, a frown of intense pain and concentration on his face, every muscle taut and sinew clenched. She began to move her hand and he forced it to stay, holding her with an iron grip, and holding himself up with one hand.

"Spike, what in the-" _Thud. Thump. _From the hollow where her fingertips rested.

He gasped and collapsed on top of her, a wreck of jelly muscles, but a proud smile on his face. "Knew I could do it for you, Luv."

"Spike- what was that?" She asked in a shaking voice.

"Made my heart beat. Didn't know if I could, but knew I had to try." He looked up at her, spent like he'd run a hundred miles in a moment. "Oh, I'm still dead, Buffy. Dead in this body. But you see, Pet? I can still use my heart- where you're concerned."

Her mind reeled. That must have meant extreme control and concentration, finding an involuntarily moving organ that no longer worked, and channeling all your other muscles to make a chain reaction and actually force it to beat. Even once. He can still use his heart. "And I can still use mine- where you're concerned." She replied.

His face relaxed, a content smile, an actually pure smile crossed his lips. "I love you, Baby. Gimme a minute an' I'll-"

"No. You lay on your back, and rest." Buffy reversed them easily, he was too weak to resist her anyway. "You just lay there. And let me show you that I mean it."


	8. Chapter 8

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive responses so far! _

_This chapter dedicated to Idiosyncratic Delusions, iSage, Spirited Ghost, Hannah the Bloody, and of course, Lithium Reaper, who found the art to inspire the piece._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part VIII

She loves me. Said she meant it. Showed me, didn't she? Spike's sleeping thoughts were sweet, for he was the happiest he'd ever been.

Buffy didn't dream. She lay calmly atop her pale lover, quilt covering them both, giving her body heat to him, which in turn he reflected, and warmed her. Safe and warm and loved. Heaven- no, not heaven, Buffy began to stir, and realized where she was. Not heaven. But the feeling of warmth and peace didn't tear away and leave her grieving as her eyes opened. Hmm. Spike asleep with a gentle smile on his lips. That was her heavenly substitute? She'd lost her mind.

The red digital numbers flickered as they switched to 3:05. Almost time to get up, plunge in, fight some evil. Made a change, she'd been sleeping with evil for several days. She blushed guiltily and rolled off him.

"Buffy?" He woke at her absence, his voice sleepy and bereft. "What's up, Luv?"

"Uh- it's almost time to get up." Buffy pointed to the clock. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Like I was in a bleedin' coma." Spike sat up and stretched. "Is there some blood left?"

"Yeah, want me to heat it up?" Buffy asked, already putting it in the microwave. Spike's eyebrows swiveled clear to his sleep tumbled hair. "What? What?"

"You- I jus'- thank you, Pet." His smile went from sweet to slightly savage. "Never thought I'd wake up after makin' love to you an' then you'd make my breakfast."

"I'm not. I'm not!" Buffy suddenly went on defensive. "I was just up first! I'm going to get a quick shower." She grabbed the nearest pile of clothes, those she'd worn yesterday, and made for the bathroom.

Spike turned on the vampire speed, leapt the bed and caught her elbow, pressing her back into the wall. "Luv- didn't mean anything by it."

"You looked like you did! All cocky smiles and 'you're makin' my breakfast'." She tugged her arm away and continued into the bathroom.

"You were. An' I appreciated it. Nothin' I wouldn't do for you."

Buffy ignored him and cranked the water on full. "I'll be quick. Then you can go."

Spike stepped in behind her instead. She gasped as he grabbed her shoulders. "Don't make this about the bleedin' breakfast. You afraid to remember what you did? What you said? You go ahead an' fool yourself, Precious, but you can't make me forget."

"What if I knock you out for a week?" She muttered, shoulders jerking away from his hands, only to be instantly pulled back.

"You love me. I love you. You don't have to do anything about it, d'you get that, you stupid chit?"

"I didn't say it!" Buffy looked up at him angrily. Watched his face twitch, but hold its calm look.

"You don't have to." Spike whispered.

"I- I don't? Ever?" She suddenly looked hopeful.

"If you don't say it, it isn't real? That it?" Her downcast eyes told him he'd nailed it. "You wanna whisper in the dead man's ear again, Luv? 'Cause what you say- it doesn't mean anythin', right? Might as well say it, then." He taunted, jaw jutting.

"I can't! I can't tell you how I feel or you'll disappear! They all do!" Buffy finally screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth with her admission. Spike blinked.

"What'd I tell you-"

"And that's what they all swear! But they all leave once the game is played. Once they know you love them back- then they can leave. They won. Don't you get that?"

Spike pulled her to his chest, finding her resistance dropping with every fraction of distance closed. She said, practically, that she loved him back. His heart was singing inside his chest. "But I already know you do, Luv. I _know_. An' I'm not runnin' away. I'll never leave, though God knows you try to push me away." He kissed her, and she let him. "So you get it in your head that I know now. Then you say it, whenever you want. But stop playin' this game."

Buffy stayed silent, his words washing over her. He slipped under the stream, worked the bar of paper wrapped soap open, ran it over his taut muscles and rinsed, leaving her alone. "I'm sorry." She called as she heard the door open. He'd loved her enough to make his dead heart beat. Prove that he could use it. Literal proof, but still, she got the symbolism.

His head popped back through the curtain, making her screech once. "Forgiven. You- you're gonna drop this round of 'kick the Spike' for today? At least 'til we kill the baddie?"

"Yeah." She grabbed his hand before he pulled it off the curtain. "Spike. Last night-"

"Last night?" He waited for a blow that never landed.

"I did mean it." She kissed him softly on his stunned and opened mouth, and then shut the curtain firmly in his face.

Spike drank the lukewarm blood and dressed, putting on his duster and making sure it was well and truly jammed with weapons, the rest of the hard alcohol from the mini-bar, his smokes, his cards, and this was new, his wallet stuffed with cash. Never know how things'd go down, might need to be ready to run. His cock protested angrily as he zipped up his straining jeans. Sorry, friend, you've had your fun for the day, possibly for life- or unlife. No time for a quick shag, no time for a quick anything, they wasted too much time with the same soddin' arguments.

But in reality- couldn't get better than their last time. She let him say it, she made love to him, she worshipped him with her body and she was gentle. Not that he needed gentle, he smirked to himself, but he did love when she was clearly trying to show her love, not treat it like some form of combat or aerobic exercise. When they'd climaxed, as one, together, eyes locked in the darkness, she'd cried out his name, and tumbled onto his chest. And she hadn't run away, or even pushed off. She slept with her ear to his chest, as if she could still hear his heartbeat. "Always save the best for last." Spike whispered to himself with a sad half-smile.

"I'm ready." Buff emerged, wet hair up in a bun, no make up, looking like she was ready to work, kill, win. Determination in the set of her chin and the flash of her eyes.

"Let's do it then." Spike gave her a flash of fangs and amber eyes before metamorphosing back into human features. His duster spun as he swaggered out into the hall, aware of the graceful figure that walked beside him, with a quick, smooth, rolling gait. His match. "Alright, Luv?"

"Got my knight with me, don't I?" She said, eyes straight ahead.

"That you do."

They were silent on the drive in. They ditched the bike fairly close to the agency this time, planning to be in need of a quick getaway. "Buffy. You know we're gonna be fine, an' all, but jus' in case-" Spike was picking the lock deftly, whispering to her as he did so.

"Not now. Wait until we're captured or something, okay?" She hissed.

"Fine. I love you an' Bit." He looked over his shoulder and caught her eye.

"It's only one person, Spike, geez."

"Do you know how many times I had to tell the cold ground that I loved you? 147 soddin' times. Maybe more. Prolly a lot more. I'm tellin' you now, while you can hear me." He wrenched the door open. "In, let's go."

Buffy followed him. "Thanks for telling me." She whispered. She took his hand and they prowled in stealthily, together. "Are we alone?"

"Wish you'd told me you wanted it earlier." Spike groaned softly.

"Perv! Is there anyone else here?"

Spike sniffed and listened, straining his senses. "I'm not gettin' anything human. But there's somethin', somewhere. A little tickle at my neck. Like someone breathin' on my collar."

Spike. Breathing on her neck, from behind. God, she was stupid, why hadn't she set the alarm for earlier, get one more time in before they left, and the real world, with friends and family, and a Watcher on her back, would interfere? And why hadn't she let him take her that way, with him at her back, when he'd offered to? She'd known he wouldn't hurt her, she'd been sure of it, and she'd stopped him anyway.

Wetness. Coating his senses suddenly. "Honestly, Slayer." He breathed against her lips, turning to her, pulling her up short. "Give a bloke a hard time, you do."

"We need to concentrate."

"Can't sense anything but what's poolin' between your thighs, Luv. Hot an' wet. Lots of Buffy, touches a' Spike." He licked his pale lips appreciatively.

She quivered against him and then shook her head hard. "No. We are _not _doing this now. We are not! See, _this_ is why I shouldn't date guys who patrol with me, it's so side-tracking!"

"We date now?" Spike teased in a low whisper.

"No! God, Spike, come on, we're gonna screw this all up if we don't get to the link, break it, and get done with it!"

"You're right. Bit'll kill me if we muck this up for a quick tumble- not that I'd tell her the reason." He added quickly.

"C'mon then. You work on pinpointing where the evil is strongest, I'll smash the mirrors." Buffy headed purposefully towards the ladies' lavatory.

"Whoa, Slayer. I'm comin' with you." Spike caught up to her easily.

"No, you aren't. You can't go in there!"

"For Christ's sake, Buffy. If she can use any ol' mirror, you might be starin' into the dimensional version of Grand Central."

"Fine." Buffy sighed. Wouldn't it be nice if you could get to heaven so easily? A simple step, a little walk through the glass, and into heaven you'd go...

Spike watched her face take on the sad cast it had so often in these last few weeks. "Don't think on it, Luv. You don't know where it goes." He whispered. She nodded once, solemnly, too lost in thought to even contradict him, and that worried him worse than anything. As soon as she opened the door, he was a black leather blur, flying kick, flying kick, elbow jab, and all three mirrors were in shards all over the ugly green tile floor.

"Spike!" Buffy hissed at him, covering her face with her arms and turning to the side.

"That's done. Don't recall if the men's loo had a mirror or not, but we'd better check."

"Could you not make that much noise next time?" Buffy sighed. Spike rolled his eyes and nodded. She hid a smile. Yeah. Right. Stealth was not something Spike excelled in. Sneaky, yes. Quiet- not when fighting. Not when making love either. She felt another painful twist start in her core and winced. Not only was she craving him like a junkie, she was easily, _easily_ using the term "making love" in her head. In reference to Spike.

A tinkle of glass shattering alerted her to the fact that they'd moved on. She must have followed him blindly, in a sexually induced stupor. Great. When the Watcher Journals chronicled her death, her third death, it would read "The Chosen One known as Buffy Summers was hacked to pieces by an ancient demon, who easily snuck up on her, because she was busy having naughty smoochie thoughts about a vampire and wasn't even aware when she was walking from one room to the next." Only in much more boring terms and with way bigger words.

"Slayer! Get your head out of the gutter an' let's move!" Spike dragged her along by the wrist until she shook him off, coming back to herself. "Mirrors are all taken care of. Time for the quick stuff. You ready?"

"Ready." She squeezed his hand once and they exchanged a look. They took the stairs from the ground floor to the third in only a few seconds, constantly checking to see the other's progress. She's faster, but I've got longer legs, Spike decided as they finished, neither panting nor sweating, at the same second. "I win." He said, just because he was a git.

"You so didn't." She rolled her eyes. "Here. I'll take this one. You think she's waiting?"

"Still can't sense any heartbeat but yours." Spike shrugged. "But the scent. Somethin' nasty here somewhere. Not close though. Not right here. Weapons at the ready?"

"And do what with them? Kill the human host and get the demon prize at the bottom of the box?"

"She can still get hurt without gettin' killed." Spike said grimly, and slipped the small crossbow into his palm as Buffy kicked the alarm at the third floor entrance to bits. The door was next. Three swift kicks from her and a shoulder charge from him to finish the stubborn steel bolt, and they stumbled forward into the hall.

"Where do you think the pictures of us are?" Buffy whispered as they stealthily crept down the hallway, peering in each room as they went along.

"You're worried about that now? Can we please kill the demon first, an' worry about our glossies later?" Spike asked in a mildly annoyed tone.

"You know she has to be in there, don't you? I've got the tinglies."

"Vamp senses agree with you." Spike nodded towards the final doorway. "Jus' keep something between you an' the mirror, and it'll be fine."

"Spike. Is that door- open?" Buffy peered into the deep darkness that seemed to enclose the far reaches of the hallway.

"I b'lieve someone's expectin' us, Pet." Spike breathed.

"Not fair to keep them waiting." Buffy said with her typical battlefield humor.

"Then let's crash this party." Spike slammed one boot into the door and it flew backwards, letting them see into the room.

No mirrors. Anywhere. Not large ones, anyway, but there might be some hand mirrors some place, was Buffy's first thought. Her second thought was "Wow. Evil makes more money than slaying." The room was covered in fine art and antiques and gorgeous Persian rugs. An ornately carved wooden desk stood in one corner, a bed in the other, one of those fancy canopy beds. Buffy swallowed her covetousness and stared at Spike. "No one."

"No mirror." He rejoined. "Guess it's hidden. Probably got the link in her hot little hands. You stay behind me. She wants me." Spike ordered.

"I will not." Buffy marched ahead of him into the room, and he tried to block her, clearly exasperated. "There isn't even anyone in here."

The door slammed behind them, making them whirl.

"Bloody hell." Spike groaned as Buffy gasped.

The entire back of the door was a huge mirror, covering every inch of the door. There wasn't even a door knob. The mirror itself looked ordinary. Not even a fancy frame, just glass. "I'll sort it." Spike began and raised one hard fist. He didn't like the way the soddin' thing seemed to mesmerize Buffy, causing her to stare stolidly at it, not moving. And he didn't like knowing he was standing dead in front of it, and not casting a reflection. It played with Buffy's mind, already teetering on the brink of reality, increasing her confusion about what existed and what didn't. He leered and neared the mirror.

Buffy heard it first, but she couldn't do anything about it. The ceiling panel directly over the door slid back, and Melissa dropped neatly in front of Spike's onslaught. Spike's fist connected with the chestnut beauty's chin, and she shoved him backwards hard. He sat up, fury in the each line of his chiseled features.

"No one touches the mirror- until I get it ready." She smiled evilly. Melissa stood protectively in front of the mirror for a second, before moving casually aside. "It's an effective trap, isn't it? You can get out- if you touch the mirror. Of course, once you touch the mirror, you won't be _going _out." She said in an oiling voice, clearly pleased with herself.

Spike stood and moved closer to Buffy, both of them tensed, just waiting to get Melissa back in front of the mirror. Buffy looked around and noticed that one wall was floor to ceiling red drapes. She nudged Spike, hoping he would realize there were probably boarded up windows just out of sight. They could get out that way- if they were fast, before the sun was up.

"Oh, you can jump. A vampire'd probably make it from three flights up." Melissa purred to her male captive. The she turned her eyes to Buffy. "But he won't leave you. He loves you."

Buffy reeled and Spike's mouth opened angrily. Melissa held up a warning finger. "You know he's a vampire?" Buffy gasped out, ignoring the warning.

"Oh, yes. That's why I want him so much. _You're_ just my insurance policy. If he had come alone, I would have had to hurt him, which would be a pity. He's so much more beautiful like this, with all of his features intact." Melissa stared at him admiringly for a moment before continuing. "But now that you're here, dear Ann, I can just remind him how badly I can hurt you and he'll be good." She stepped uncomfortably close to Spike, and he gave a disdainful snort. "Won't you, Spike? You wouldn't want anything to happen to her pretty face, would you?" Melissa's eyes flickered and Spike caught a glimpse of the evil under the human mask. Cold, cruel. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to cause pain.

"We know what you are. An' you aren't my type, so stop tartin' around me, alright?" Spike spat.

Melissa's hand drew back and his head turned, awaiting the slap, or the claws, whatever she'd dish out. But she growled and composed herself instead. Hmm. She wants to keep me lookin' pretty, that's for damn sure.

"You're nothing I haven't handled before." Buffy spoke up, once she was sure Spike wasn't about to be injured. "You're just a Melissite demon. You're a washed up priestess, and you don't look like you feel too well." Buffy targeted Melissa's vanity, and watched a flash of worry slide over the creature's face. The face before her seemed slightly more drawn, the skin more sallow than it had the first time she'd seen the woman during their first photo shoot. Again, she and Spike watched Melissa struggle to get her calm back before she spoke.

"I doubt that you know what I _am_. You might know what I'm _called_. And when will you learn, little girl, not to judge things by their names and descriptions only?"

"You gonna do the evil villain monologue bit, now?" Spike scoffed. "D'you lot know how irritatin' that is? Take over the world, drink your blood, lah-de-dah. We've heard it all before."

"So let's skip to the end. You're evil. You die." Buffy smiled cooly.

"Evil? I'm evil? My dear, dear girl. I'm not evil. I'm faithful." Melissa crooned. "I've served my Goddess for almost two and half millennia." Melissa turned to face the mirror briefly, and Spike, knowing he couldn't be seen, lunged.

But apparently, the demon could sense. She blocked him neatly, sidestepping so he fell to the floor, and she already had her hands locked on Buffy's wrist by the time he bounced back. "Do I need to keep hold of her so you'll behave?" Melissa asked Spike sweetly. "She can go through the mirror now, if you're so eager to see her destroyed. It's just glass until I'm ready- and I don't think she'd look very nice with glass shards in her eyes."

Spike swallowed and shook his head. God, she had him nobbled. Every thing he could think of would leave Buffy open to some violence. And he guessed she was sitting still because they didn't have much in the way of options. Or- she was bidin' her time.

"So, you've been into this demon thing a long time?" Buffy asked casually. Spike relaxed. She was talking. That meant biding her time. His girl had a plan. His girl always had a plan.

"I'm not a demon!" Melissa screeched. "I don't know why people think that! I'm a girl, a woman."

"But- I thought you said you've served for almost 2500 years. People don't live that long."

"Without a little help." Spike said pointedly.

"I'm faithful. I've been rewarded." Melissa said in an eerily calm voice. She turned and fixed her eyes on Buffy's. "You might have been able to serve. Only the beautiful can serve."

"So what happens when your looks start to go, then?" Spike goaded. "You're lookin' a little shopworn, Luv, can't imagine you're bringin' much glory to the good ol' goddess lookin' like that." Spike wanted her hands off of Buffy. And the demon's eyes off of hers. He didn't know what powers Melissite demons had, and cursed himself. Rupes had probably told them a soddin' syllabus full, but he'd been too enchanted with Buffy to listen properly. But he felt sure that the way Melissa held Buffy's gaze was unnatural.

"I served since I was sixteen. Oh, and I was beautiful. The most beautiful in my village, the most beautiful of all my sisters." Spike was relieved when her attention shifted back to him. "But you're smart, vampire. Only the beautiful can serve. And when the beauty fades- we're cast out. Cast out into the streets if we don't have wealthy families to care for us or arrange our marriages, if we're not friends with the wealthy to help us make our matches. Some of us were lucky, patronized by a string of older lovers, all wishing to claim they'd possessed one of Aphrodite's handmaids." Melissa laughed bitterly and sauntered closer to Spike again. "But no man wanted to keep a woman like that. Only possess her for a little while."

"So you're still here- how?" Buffy didn't like her standing so near to Spike. The way she was staring at him- she couldn't tell if she wanted to eat him or screw him. And neither option was appealing to her.

"The Goddess can be placated- she can be-persuaded- to keep us looking young and beautiful."

"You make her some little prezzies then? Some of your pretty young lads and lasses?" Spike taunted.

"Oh yes. Through the mirror you go." Melissa ran a hand along Spike's muscular arm, working the duster off of it. Spike shrugged it back on angrily.

"No one touches the coat, demon chick. An' if you're so keen to send me through the mirror, let's go!"

"It isn't dawn. Aphrodite appeared at dawn. Rosy and new from the sea, and so her offerings go to her, at dawn."

It was still dark enough, then, Buffy thought, and she sprang. She flipped neatly over Melissa and Spike. Spike, realizing the action was starting, suddenly twisted the duster around Melissa like a net, watching as Buffy tore down one of the long red curtains. Only to be met with heavy iron shutters on cathedral height windows.

Melissa laughed delightedly as Buffy's shoulders dropped. It'd take two people to even reach the windows, let alone pry off the metal covering. "Sunlight ages the skin, darling. I prefer it dark."

"An' you can see your reflection in the glass, can't you? A reflective surface. Any reflective surface'll do. Glass, mirrors, water?" Spike said with a swagger as he tried to hold the demon in place, turning her towards the gateway. "So, I'm thinkin' you'll go visit your mates, not us."

"Oh, you can hold me in front of the mirror, but it'll take us both." Melissa sneered. She relaxed in his arms and Spike shoved her away in revulsion, giving her just enough room to break free.

This time Buffy and Spike managed to grab an arm, each of them taking a side and pinning it to the floor. "We'll just hold her until daylight. It can't be long." Buffy panted, putting one knee on the shoulder of the struggling woman.

"You've killed your last." Spike slammed the demon's hand down as it managed to wiggle free.

"Kill? Kill?" Melissa's voice was honeyed. "I never killed. I merely sent the most beautiful ones to a heavenly realm. Where they serve in Aphrodite's gardens and palace. Forever young. Forever beautiful."

Spike cast a worried glance at Buffy. At the mention of heaven, her grip had slackened and her eyes drifted far away.

"Then why aren't you knockin' on the door? Thought you wanted to be young and beautiful forever." Spike demanded. "Buffy, hold on to her, Luv." Spike watched as Buffy's knuckles loosened and he barked at her. "Slayer! Hold her."

"But she-"

"She's talking rubbish, Pet. You think she led people up here, had a nice cuppa at six in the mornin' and then asked them to step along through into an ancient Greek fairy tale? You think they went willingly?"

"Oh, but they did. They do. All of us, at the agency, in this business, are worshippers, devoted servants to the Beautiful One." Melissa's voice caressed Buffy's ear. "Every one of them does, though they're too caught up in being surrounded by beauty to notice that they now worship her. That they've begun to serve something they don't even believe in. Art, Robert, even poor, frumpy Marianne. They'll believe anything, ignore anything, say anything, as long as they stay here, worshipping at a temple they don't even realize exists. They no longer see anyone as a person. Just as something beautiful. That's all you are dear, something beautiful to look at. And as long as someone looks at you, what does it matter where you are? Wouldn't you rather be in a nice, safe, heaven, than here in this dirty, ugly world?"

"Shut your mouth!" Spike backhanded the creature. "She's lyin' to you, she wants your defenses down!"

"It's not a lie! But I do want-" Melissa kicked her black panted legs hard and kneed Buffy in the chest, Spike in the arm, and broke their hold, "-your defenses down!"

Spike shook Buffy roughly by the arm, jarring her back to reality. "You know it matters. You've got heart, Buffy, you've got soul, you aren't someone's museum piece."

Buffy looked into his eyes for a long moment before she could muddle out that this person was speaking the truth, and the other woman in the room was lying. They both gave off a strange vibe, both begging to be slain. But one vibe, Spike's vibe, was changing. Her senses accepted him after a moment, as they had begun to do after a few months of working with him when they battled Adam and Glory, like they unfailingly did since she came back to life. Buffy glared at Melissa. "You- you twist everything."

"That's all this world is, Ann- or Buffy- whoever you are. Just twists and turns. All of the people, too busy aren't they? To notice what's real? To notice there was evil in something beautiful." She cast a significant look at Spike. "You're perfect for her. So finely made. Just like Aphrodite herself. Evil underneath a pretty face. Goddess of love, ha, more like the goddess of_ lust_. She loved the young and beauteous- and those who loved her. She didn't know what it was like to love back, or give love and not have it returned. Ah, yes, the vampire is a perfect fit."

"Your boss lady wants a dead thing?" Spike scoffed. The three of them were circling now- or half circling, because no one dared put their back to the mirror.

"You're hardly dead. Though I won't feel bad about killing you if I must, since you're not truly alive. But, it doesn't matter if you're 'dead' or 'alive' as long as your looks don't fade. You're the perfect offering. You have eternal youth, you have eternal beauty. So very, very handsome, and truly in love with someone."

"Love? Wait, he doesn't have a soul! He can't love someone." Buffy said it so easily, so convincingly, that Spike felt the fight go right out of him.

After everything. These few days alone, not to mention the weeks since she'd returned and the months before she'd gone. She still believed that. He never considered whether she was trying to save his skin, bring the demon's attentions elsewhere. All he knew was that she didn't believe he loved her. Believed he couldn't love anyone. Not Bit. Not her. No one.

Melissa's laugh was pitying. "He can love as well as any other human. Moreover, his love is eternal and unconditional. It will last longer than human love, which fades as the memory goes or disappointments occur." Melissa turned her sharp eyed gaze to Spike and gave him a cloying smile. "And the love is unrequited, but true. The longest lasting kind, the most painful kind. You'll satisfy her for decades, maybe centuries."

"Too bloody right." Spike sighed, eyes closed. He stepped into the circle. "You let her go, an' I'm yours." She doesn't love me. An' I'm just gonna live with the pain of knowin' the best days of my life were lies, knowin' she never thought I was really lovin' her, in love with her. Might as well do somethin' noble, save the little innocent mortals from bein' goddess snacks.

"Acceptable." Melissa's eyes lit up and she stalked towards Buffy.

"What? Spike, no!" Buffy cried frantically.

"You'll get out of here, you'll go home to Dawn. And you'll give her my love- oh wait, no, you won't, 'cause you think I_ can't _love."

"I only-"

"Oh, save it, I'm bein' noble for one of the very few times in my life, an' I don't wanna hear your lies. 'I believe you can love me', load of tosh, is what that was! An' if for nothin' else, I'm doing this to save other little mortals, and I'm makin' up for the time I failed to save _you_. Now, let her go." Spike addressed this last to Melissa.

"You promised! You promised you wouldn't leave. You promised Dawn and me!"

Spike shrugged and watched Buffy struggle against Melissa. "Don't have a soul, can't love, what's my word mean?" He asked, not looking at her.

"That you always keep the promises you make to your ladies." Buffy said desperately. "I believe that! I believe you- about everything!"

Spike's head shot up. That was his Achilles heel. The promises he made to the ladies he loved- whether or not they truly believed he'd keep his word, whether or not they truly believed he loved them. Buffy shouldered the demon hard and gained a few footsteps back into the room, away from the door she was being herded towards. "You're right, Luv." Spike shook himself out of his depressed mind frame and reached into his fallen duster. His switchblade. Handy for all sorts of things.

"No!" Buffy screamed as he advanced with the knife open, but Spike wasn't aiming to kill. He crouched and rose in one fluid motion, swiping a deep gash across the back of Melissa's knees. As he rose, she fell with a scream of agony.

"What'd-" Buffy looked at him wide eyed.

"She can't walk now. Cut the muscles." Spike whispered grimly, and he dragged the bleeding form in front of the mirror.

"No! No, take me away from the mirror, away from the mirror!" Melissa screeched. She began to drag herself towards them, but Spike was standing over her, blade still open.

"Lemme ask you a question, Mel." Spike licked the blood off his knife, and then spat. "Rank, that is. Hardly a drop of human left in you, demoness, whatever you'd like to think. But I was sayin'- why don't you want to go off to heaven, hmm?"

Buffy towered over the cringing woman, watching the blood pool and feeling sick to her stomach. She was glad vampires dusted fast, and she wondered in horror how Spike could be so calm, watching this clearly human-looking woman suffer and bleed. She was reminded again that he had a demon himself, and she felt repulsed.

"It is true. It is true, girl, you- you want to go there, I know you do. I can see it in you, you belong in the heavenly realms!" Melissa reached for her.

Spike kicked her hard in the neck, and spoke over her scream of pain. "My guess is, you abused your powers. Aphrodite's been tryin' to get you home for ages, hasn't she? And you keep throwing her little distractions to keep her off your back?"

Buffy went to Spike's side, intending to keep him away from the writhing woman on the floor. "Stay back, Luv- the show's about to start." Spike pushed Buffy out of Melissa's range.

Both of them took a step back as Melissa's beautiful almond shaped eyes slitted, her lips retracted, and fangs slowly slid down, venom dripping from the sharp points. Her manicured nails split as blood red claws took their place. Buffy looked at Spike's impassive face, and cursed herself. She had doubted him, again. And this- this was what he'd been trying to save her from.

"You might hurt this human frame." Melissa- or the thing inside Melissa-warned in a deep guttural hiss. "But the servant is stronger." She shakily began to get to her legs.

Buffy pushed Spike back this time. "You lay a hand on him and you'll find out what I can do to a demon, lady."

"Ahh, maybe both of you want to go? The love is no longer unrequited. True love. So rare. So delicious, that'll appease her for centuries, both so lovely-" Melissa staggered a step closer, still moving on pure will, her legs mostly useless.

The mirror rippled suddenly, and Spike shot a puzzled glance at the windows. Dawn was still a little ways off according to his vampire senses.

"Noooooooo!" Melissa wailed, a hissing, gurgling, cry that made Buffy's skin undulate and even Spike looked unnerved.

"The side, move, move!" Buffy dragged Spike off to the wall, out of the range of the mirror. There were only two safe spots, on the walls directly to the sides of the door. "Keep flat."

"What d'you care?" Spike huffed. Buffy decked him and he staggered back, plastered to the wall.

"Good. Now stay there!" She ordered.

Blue light was wafting through the room, and concentrating on Melissa, each little beam settling on her, and each one causing her a shriek. "I have served you for centuries! For millennia!" She screeched at someone or something in the mirror. No answer came, and the wailing grew.

Spike reached over and took Buffy's arm, pulled her into his chest, blocking her ears, and she allowed him. The noise was inhuman. Spike closed his eyes against the sight of the tortured creature being dragged slowly through the portal, still struggling and clawing to get away. "Don't look, Luv, don't look." Spike murmured into Buffy's hair holding her tighter. Her head was buried in his chest and he knew she didn't need to be told twice.

And just as suddenly as the light had begun, it ended. There was a final strangled cry, and then the room was empty and silent.

"We made it. She's gone. Dragged back to where she belongs, by the sounds of it." Spike sighed, releasing Buffy.

Buffy stared at the empty floor and cautiously looked around, even skirting the edge of the door. Spike passed her to retrieve his coat and Buffy confronted him.

"Ow! Sod it!" Spike rubbed his cracked septum and stared at her. "What in the bloody, buggerin' hell is the matter with you!"

"You thought I meant it! You thought- I didn't believe you loved me! I know you do! I- you know I can't say it, but when I think it- you know I- you_ knew_. You gave up on me! You almost _left_ me!" Buffy screamed at him, a tear leaking out of one eye. "You swore I couldn't get rid of you, that you'd stay for centuries, no matter what I did."

"You ever get tired, Luv?" Spike looked at her wearily. "An' you feel like givin' up for a few minutes?"

Buffy swallowed softly. "You know I do."

"I was feelin' like that. Kinda tired of thinkin' everything I tell you, everything I show you means nothin' to you. That you were lyin' to me this whole time, and I fell for it." He walked slowly to her, hands reaching to caress her face. "Think about what it felt like when you woke up next to Angelus instead of Angel. The whole world upside down."

"I'm sorry, Baby. I- but I do. Even she knew. She said it."

"I didn't listen to her, Luv. But I do listen to _you_. An' I trust you. If you say somethin', I believe you."

"Then listen. Spike doesn't have a soul. Spike is dead. Spike's heart doesn't beat." Spike's eyes widened and then narrowed as Buffy tangled her hands into his hair. "But Spike can love, and care, and he's obnoxiously smart and insightful and part of me hates him like crazy. Spike makes me feel alive- even when I _so_ do not want that. And his heart? He can make it work for me, even if it hasn't moved once in almost 130 years. Believe _that_."

Spike kissed her, all words seeming inadequate. Another miracle occurred, and he let all the words fall away. He couldn't speak. Just kiss her, let me show her how I love her, he thought, like she showed me.

"Sunlight soon, let's get going." Buffy whispered as she broke their longing kiss.

"Just gotta find the photos." Spike whispered, and he moved swiftly to the desk in the room. "You do the honors, Luv? Smash that mirror all to hell?" Spike rifled through the drawers and eventually found their photos , along with the photos of six others, in an envelope marked "old business". "Luv? Buffy?"

Spike pocketed the photos and turned back to his lover, if he was feeling brave enough to call her that. "Buffy?"

"It's still open. I think." Buffy whispered. Her fingers touched the top half of the glass, and her finger sank through, like putting her hand in a warm pool of water.

"The bottom's turning solid. I expect it'll close in a moment. By daylight, I suppose."

"Yeah. Yeah." Buffy repeated the word with more force, squaring her shoulders.

"Buffy..." Spike whispered entreatingly.

"I could- get used to it. Being young, and beautiful forever. And always out of trouble, no more fighting. Just days, and days, and days of doing what you're told, no one asking you to make hard choices." She stroked the liquifying spots of the mirror wistfully.

"But would you be happy?" Spike whispered, coming beside her. "She said young and beautiful, but she didn't say happy. We can guess, but would we be right? What would you be asked to do? What if you wanted to come home someday, because your memory didn't fade, and eventually you miss Dawn or- someone?" Spike asked seriously. "An' bein' told what to do, Pet? By some stranger? For eternity? Wouldn't suit you." He forced a note of jocularity into his soft voice.

Buffy stepped away from the portal with a heavy sigh. "Probably right. You have that whole obnoxious insight thing I mentioned. Kick it in. Fast."

Spike raised one heavy boot and aimed low, not wanting to get caught in one of the gateway spots that remained open. "Wait a mo'. Those models. Do you think they're still in there? Trapped somehow?" He peered in the mirror, but could only see the glass and the reflection of the woman behind him. "Should I try to get 'em out? Dunno how I'd manage it, but-"

Buffy shook her head. "What if she was telling the truth? She did- about some things. What if it is like heaven?" She trembled over the last word and then forged on. "Leave them. It might hurt them to come back- especially if they've been there for what seems like a long time." Spike nodded slowly, understanding that she, more than any other, would be an authority on that subject.

He looked at the mirror, judging where the the best breaking point would be- and all he could look at was her face, her body. Hugging her thin arms around her narrow torso, her face drawn and pale, and the eyes haunted and hungry.

Love's a bitch. Hurts so bad. Hurts more than death and torture, he thought, and he lowered his foot reluctantly.

He slowly walked to her, tears in his eyes. "Go in if you want, Pet. I'l look after Bit." He wiped hurriedly at his eyes with his thumb, and sniffed in deeply. "I know it'd break all our hearts again, but the only I heart I care for is yours. I love you enough to let you rest. I did then, I do now." He could hardly get the words out around the aching knot in his throat, and he was surprised she could understand him, so low and hoarse as his voice was.

Buffy looked like she'd been given a reprieve at the last minute before execution. She walked slowly to the portal, her hand on his arm, peering intently. Was it _her_ heaven? Did it matter, as long as it was out of this cruel, cold, confusing world?

God, I'm gonna lose her. An' I'll have to live with it, 'cause I'm promisin' to keep Bit safe. I'm gonna have to live another 70 years with this pain, 'til Bit's gone, an' I can rest. An' they'll all know I failed. They'll stake me, an' Bit'll be on her own. Oh God, I don't know what to do, but I can't let her stay in pain anymore...

Buffy reached up for him, and drew his head down, kissing him lovingly. She felt her fingertips grow wet, and his mouth wasn't fitting to hers properly. She tasted his tears and pulled back, tasting her own.

"I'm sorry, Luv. Can't help it." He whispered in a sob. She kissed him again, and this time he held his lips firm, he was savoring, loving her, loving this one last kiss. "I love you, Precious. I will. Forever."

She jerked back, staring at him, her own eyes dropping salty trails. "On three. We break it. Together."

"No, Luv, I didn't say it for that, I didn't mean to cry to get you to stay." Spike cursed himself. If she missed her chance, because of him, she'd hate him forever.

"I wanna stay here." She whispered. "We'll stay here. We'll learn to live in this world again. Maybe I can find some new kind of heaven, if you love me like she said you do? Like you say you do?"

"I can! I do, Buffy, I promise, I swear." Spike assured her. "However you need me to be- well, I'm not perfect, an' I'll never be what you'd call 'good', but I'll never let you down, Luv."

"Then, on three." She took his hand, and they leaned together, legs arching, muscles tensing. "One, two, three!" Their bodies uncoiled, another proof that they were a match- and smacked into the glass in perfect unison. The mirror shattered, and as each piece left the whole, it began to dissolve, like glass snowflakes hitting hot air.

"What's happening? What the hell is that?" Buffy gasped as the room began to tilt, sliding slowly towards the center of the room, like water heading down a drain. Only there was no drain, no whirlpool hole, just a place in the epicenter of the room where things suddenly faded away.

"Think this whole place might be part of the link, Luv!" Spike yelled over the rumbling that was beginning. "Time to fly!"

They grasped hands more tightly and tore from the room, running through the doorway that now had no door in front of it. "Damn!" Buffy caught Spike as he began to fall down the stairs that were no longer there. "What do we do now?" She asked, but she didn't need an answer.

"You pick the route, I'll keep up!" He shouted over the clamor. Buffy nodded, crouched, and lunged.

Down they went, speeding past bits of fading rooms and fixtures, tearing towards the doorway at the front, which remained the most stable and clear focus point in the whole dissolving mess. "It's going faster!" Buffy warned and flattened her body down, running full out.

"Stop lookin' over your back, I'll make it!" Spike commanded, and dove, body completely horizontal and flying to the exit as it began to shift. They reached it at the same time. He shoved her through, and she reached back and yanked him behind her.

Together, they collapsed in front of the building. Or what used to be the building. With puzzled frowns, they sat up. "Wh-where did the building go?"

"Bloody woman." Spike muttered, looking at a weather beaten, rotting, ruin of a building, in a large grassy lot. A hint of pink on the horizon ended their contemplation. "She transformed the whole place with her soddin' magic mirror. Gonna be a lot of bothered people this morning when they realize they've been goin' to work at a place that doesn't exist.

"B-but Melissa Modeling's been around for years." Buffy protested, pushing herself to her feet, following Spike quickly to the bike.

"An' even as you say it-"

"I find myself knowing that it isn't true." Buffy shook her head. "How do they do that? And where's my helmet?"

"Oh, sod it all, that was expensive." Spike looked back at the building. "Gone now. You be careful and hang on to me tight. I've gotta hurry, we're racin' daylight here."

"Oh, I'll hold on tight." Buffy whispered. "And I'll go out later and get another helmet when I grab some blood and breakfast." She suddenly dropped her head on Spike's shoulder and muttered in disgust, "Blood and breakfast. Oh God."

"We are not doin' that again." Spike said vehemently. "No more of this. We're together, we're stayin' that way, and I'll make my own soddin' blood if it makes you happy."

"I know." Buffy, lips now unencumbered by a helmet, let them graze his ear. "No more of that argument. You're still not my 'perfect guy', okay? But I- you're my guy."

"An' you're my girl. Oh God, Luv, I'm so happy. You're really my girl?"

"I guess so." She didn't sound thrilled with the prospect, but Spike smiled broadly anyway. This was heaven compared to last week.

Spike revved the bike and screeched it round the corners with frightening speed, but with certainty. No smashin' up his beauty. "D'you remember what you said we'd do after we won?"

"What?" Buffy felt herself growing warm and damp.

"Celebrate."

"Oh." Buffy lightly traced her tongue up and down the curve of his ear and down his neck.

"Stop that 'til I park the bleedin' bike." Spike jerked into the hotel lot.

"No." She said with a little pout.

"Stubborn woman."

"You know you love me." She laughed with easy confidence.

Spike helped her off the bike and they trotted into the lobby, narrowly avoiding the first shafts of sunlight. "Yeah, Pet. You know I do." Spike wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into his chest as they walked to their room, unaware of anything going on around them, for one day, the only two people in the world.


	9. Chapter 9

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note the First: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Author's note the Second: I apparently ended the last chapter very convincingly, and many people have written asking me if the story ended there. I'm almost done, but not quite. I believe (but you know how that goes) that this is the second to last chapter. But when I'm done, I will put some kind of closing statement at the bottom, so there isn't any confusion. Thank you all so much for reading!_

_Thank you to all for the positive responses ! _

_This chapter dedicated to Idiosyncratic Delusions, iSage, Spirited Ghost, Hannah the Bloody, and of course, Lithium Reaper, who found the art to inspire the piece._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Part IX

"We did it." Buffy told Giles. "Bad is all taken care of, and we'll be home tonight."

"Well done, Buffy!" Giles beamed. "Marvelous work."

"It wasn't really so hard." Buffy exchanged a look with her sprawled out, completely wasted looking - Spike. What the hell did she call him? No longer enemies, way more than a friend, she'd never in a zillion years call him a boyfriend. Her significant other, she decided. "Well- parts of it were hard- but the killing the demon part was a piece of cake. Spike did all the work."

Giles blinked. Buffy, giving Spike credit? That was worrisome.

"Couldn't 'a done it without you, Luv." Spike murmured sleepily.

"Why is Spike in your room this time?" Giles sighed.

"To be in on our phone call." Buffy said with an eye roll. "Seriously, you need to stop being so suspicious of him. He loves Dawn and - and he's on our side."

Spike looked at her with melting blue eyes and caressed her smooth, buttery skin. "Thanks, Beautiful." He whispered.

"Buffy- about Spike loving any thing or any one, you do realize-"

"He loves Dawn. You can love without a soul. In very rare cases. You should look into it, do some research." Buffy knew she was sounding like a bitch, but she mostly didn't care. She had been interrupted between rounds one and two of her post-slaying celebration, and she had much more celebrating to do. She glanced at Spike. Every part of him was lying limp and spent- except the one part of him that should've been. His pale member stood alert and ready for more action. Buffy bit her lip and felt herself start aching more intensely. Spike must have sensed it, because he scooted closer to her, and wrapped his arm around her waist, cuddling up and kissing all over her lower back and the tops of her cheeks.

"I don't need the defiant tone, Buffy, I merely wanted to remind you. I know in the past Spike has expressed feelings for you, but you need to realize that an un-souled vampire cannot experience true love."

"They can't, huh? The love goddess flunky said different."

"Oh, please, Buffy, you're not taking the word of a demon?"

"Why are we even having this conversation?" Buffy demanded.

"I honestly don't know!" Giles shook his head. "Maybe because I'm not quite awake. It's not even 7:30, but I couldn't fall back to sleep until I called. I didn't know if you'd decided to do the raid last night, or early this morning, and of course I wanted to make sure you'd been successful."

Buffy smirked. For "successful" read "not dead yet". She sighed,"Well, I'll let you go back to bed if you let us go back to bed." Buffy looked at Spike with wide "deer in the headlights" eyes as she realized what she'd said. "I mean-" Spike dug his hand into her shoulder. She stopped. She couldn't lie- not in front of him, anyway. Not right now, when he was looking at her with those exquisitely soulful eyes. How did he have eyes like that, without a soul?

"No, no, I quite understand." Giles laughed once and then felt a tug of suspicion. "Quickly, Buffy, before I go. What made you suddenly sure that soulless creatures can love? Was it merely the word of the Melissite demon?" And why were you talking about such things, he pondered silently

"No. Spike and I got to talk a lot. There's not a lot to do in Cliffside, Giles. You should've warned me, I didn't even bring a book to read. But anyway, about Spike. He told me lots of things about his relationship with Dawn." Buffy ached to say more, but stopped. It was private. It was shameful. But she was still going to do it. In secret. At least for a long time.

"And that's acceptable to you? That he expresses this 'love' for Dawn?"

"Rupes! Would you shut your soddin' mouth? You're makin' the Slayer angry. An' in case you've got dirty old man ideas- my love for Dawn is of the sister variety. You know that. And if you say you don't, you wanker, I'll-"

"No, Spike, I do know that." Giles reassured, genuinely agreeing that Spike had provided a brotherly role in Buffy's absence. "It's just this term of 'love'-"

"What d'you call a hundred years with one woman, Watcher?"

"Loyalty and affection." Giles mumbled, as he often did when delving into a subject he would rather leave alone. "Affection isn't as complex as love."

Buffy winced. Oh, crap. I sounded like Giles. I sounded like Giles, and Spike's gonna blow any second, and not in the good " filling my tummy with liquid-y butterfly kisses" way, and oh my God, I'm thinking about sex with Spike while Giles is on the phone.

But Spike, though annoyed, wasn't exactly angry. He was having too much fun watching the tidal wave of changing emotions dance over Buffy's countenance.

"Let's look into it." Buffy suddenly coughed out. "Okay? Later? And we'll research and everything."

"Buffy, listen to me." Giles hissed insistently. "Spike is not Angel. Angel has a soul and that makes it -"

"Giles? Do you know that all the important men in my life leave me?" Buffy suddenly said. It felt like ripping a band aid off her heart. It stung, but it was better to get it over quick.

"I- well, yes, I suppose they have-" Giles guiltily looked at the passport he had sitting by his bedside table.

"So you know something I like about Spike? With or without this 'ability to love' stuff? He sticks around. Unlike _some _people." The bitterness in her voice was so pointed (though he knew Buffy wasn't referring to him) that Giles blushed and pushed his passport into the nightstand drawer.

"I'm just saying that aside from you and Xander, Spike's the only one who goes the distance. Even when I wasn't around to make him behave. So ease up. And could you not call back until later? We were up late strategizing and up early kicking butt."

"I'll just wait until you get home. We'll all be at your place tonight, I'm sure everyone is anxious to see you."

"Great." Buffy said hollowly. She slowly hung up the phone and turned to face her -significant other. "I'm going home to a house full of question-y, demand-y people."

"You could just come back to my crypt instead." Spike whispered, breathing against her hipbone, looking up at her.

"I can't. Dawn." She whispered, feeling her thighs involuntarily spreading.

"Do I at least get to come in and see her before I get kicked out?" Spike nipped her waist gently, pulling her down, positioning her to be his feast.

"You don't get kicked out this time. Unless you piss off someone."

"Oh, well then, I might as well jus' drop you off, Luv. I always piss off Xander, but I don't try to. Not much. Lately."

"Spike- I want you there. As part of the gang. I don't mean I want us to go around making goo-goo eyes at each other, but I want you there."

"I'd love to be there. Love to be anywhere near you." Spike took the opportunity of her softened expression to pull her sweet, slick pussy up to his mouth and lap at her folds, then her clit, making her writhe and puff out short gasps of air. "Enjoying yourself, Sweetlet?"

"Uh-huh." Buffy managed to gasp out, before the pleasure took her away.

Giles removed his glasses and tried to lie back down. He really should get up, the store opened soon and he needed every spare moment there to finish cataloguing the books before he- left. "Damn." He whispered. She had a point. Her father, Angel, Parker, and Riley, all gone off for various reasons, but all of them gone. Did he really need to go? She could handle things on her own- hadn't she just proven that she only needed him on the periphery? Was this a good or bad example? She didn't need him to fight, she needed him to help her solve problems. Problems related to fighting evil, not just everyday life.

"And I'm her Watcher, dammit, that's what I do." Giles sat up and shoved his glasses back on. Something else bothered him. The whole idea that Spike could love, that was only going to lead to trouble. "Yes, but there was something she said..." Giles headed to the shower, knowing that he'd never get back to sleep now. He slowly tried to replay the conversation in his mind, mumbling to himself as he undressed and lathered his face to shave. "Found the bad and killed it... well done... Spike did the hard part- that worried me, but no...Spike said something...why is he in your room this time?- Bloody Hell!" Giles swore as realization hit him, nicked his chin, and cursed a second time, this time because of the sudden stinging pain.

She said Spike was in her room after the battle because he wanted to be in on their phone call. But _he_ had made the call, not them. "She wouldn't." I'm sure they were just rehashing the battle, or maybe they planned to call me, but were waiting together until the shop opened, thinking it was too early.

Giles finished shaving in a stupor, and showered with a churning mind, and stomach to match. For every excuse he thought of, something didn't ring true to Buffy's previous nature when dealing with Spike. The only reason that kept coming back to him made him feel almost physically ill. Spike was in her room each time he called because they were no longer enemies, or even just friends. That, combined with all the talk of love, and the men in her life leaving- oh dear Lord, she'd included Spike in the list of men who didn't leave. That meant she didn't want him to leave. Oh, dear, dear Lord!

"That settles it then." Giles, now in his blue striped bathrobe, marched to the phone and dug around in a stack of papers near it. "Damn automated menus..." Several button pushes later he was finally talking to an actual human. "Hello? Yes, I'm booked on a flight for this coming Saturday. Giles, Rupert. One way, Sunnydale to Heathrow, stop over in Chicago. Yes- I want to cancel my reservation. My work schedule just changed and I'm staying stateside, I'm afraid."

Spike finished lapping his writhing Slayer to her third climax before he decided he owed himself a treat and moved in to take her. "Not yet." Buffy wriggled from under him and pushed him on his back. "You like when I do this." She smiled, and licked from the base of his shaft to his tip in one long stroke.

" Ahh, yes, I do." He felt an electric sizzle run from his toes straight up his spine, and zero in where her mouth was starting to move faster. "You know you're brilliant at that, don't you, Luv?"

Buffy smiled around him and paused, looking up at him with her mouth full of his tip. Which just happened to be something he considered to be one of the sexiest things imaginable. "You keep telling me I am."

"I mean it. How'd you get so good- how'd you- oooh." Spike stopped talking as her tongue suddenly swiped his sac. That was new- between them anyway.

"Found a new one." She giggled.

"Hmm?" Spike smiled, looking supremely blissed out and content.

"Found a new happy spot. I'm keeping track of the happy spots I find."

"Happy spots?" Spike forced the laugh back in his throat. He'd had a dumb blonde, Harmony, and for the record, he didn't think Buffy was stupid. But sometimes she was so damn adorable and innocent. "Bleedin' hell!" Spike groaned as she worked her pink tongue all over the recently found "happy spot". Adorable and innocent, and dynamite in bed. He could put up with the cute euphemisms.

"See? That spot makes you really happy. And there's one somewhere around here-" Buffy sucked the underside of his tip hard and he arched his back. "And this one." A long lick on his central vein, bottom to top. Spike shivered and seized her arms, pulling her up him quickly. "Hey! I was being nice." She pouted.

"You were about to pop me in your little pink mouth." Spike chuckled darkly. She blushed but held his gaze. "An' I know you don't mind that on occasion, Sweetlet. But I wanna be inside you again."

"I'm gonna get sore." Buffy moaned, but willingly splayed her legs. Her pussy was already swollen and the inside had returned to the tightness of their first night of experimentation. But that was just from swelling tissues, Buffy assured herself. From having ridiculously good sex, good_ love making_- about a dozen times in a couple of days, after not having any in a very long time. Or ever, as far as her stupid body had been concerned.

"Are you sore enough to stop?" Spike asked. She was strong, and he knew that was probably one reason why she was able to keep up the fevered pace, because of her special slayer powers. She wouldn't tell him to stop. At least, she hadn't in the past. And she was so slick that he would easily slide in, but just because he _could_ go in, didn't mean he should.

"No, and if you try to make me stop I'll- I'll do something unpleasant." She concluded lamely.

"Well, that's scary." He rolled his eyes. "But I won't make you stop, 'less you tell me you want to." He purred and kissed each of her puffy nipples, which probably _would _have been sore by now, if not for her slayer stamina and healing. As it was she still whimpered when he collected her little ruby tip into his mouth and sucked, pushing one finger into her channel to gently stroke her. "You're all tight again, Luv. You wanna take a little rest first? I'm not sayin' stop, Buffy, so quit glarin' at me. I'm only askin' if you want an hour to get your healin' to take down some of the swellin'."

That was sweet of him. She knew her previous partners would also have been gentlemanly about stopping, but Spike did it in the way she liked best. Straight forward, and without a trace of selfishness or disappointment. "I think I'm good. It doesn't hurt you know- just a little uncomfortable when you're in at first."

"I'll go slow." He whispered, and replaced his finger with his tip.

"Mmm, you don't need to." She laced her fingers across his mid back and looked up at him with a peaceful smile.

"You know you look happy, Pet?"

"I- I guess I am." She laughed suddenly. "Wow. I haven't been happy- since I came back." Spike looked so heartbroken at that thought that she hastened to elaborate. "Oh, I had times when I had a happy thought. But not- being happy. You know?"

"I do, Luv. Had quite a long time of bein' unhappy, with only moments of happiness thrown in so I didn't go completely barmy." Spike leaned down and kissed her, teasing her lips apart, nibbling softly on her pouting lower lip that he so loved, and then dipped his hips hard.

"Unnhn." Buffy groaned into his mouth.

"I love you." He reminded her with a sharp gasp. She was going to take his bits off. Either burn 'em off or squeeze 'em off, he had no idea, but the friction and heat that she produced was halfway to dusting him.

"I- you know." She looked up at him. She hoped it was still enough, her meaning it and not saying it. She wanted to tell him- someday. But not here. Not in Cliffside. This town was synonymous with illusion and people worshipping what the eye could see- only to find out that what the eye saw was not to be trusted. She'd tell him one day- in the real world. When things were normal. Well, things'd never be _normal_ for them. And they'd never stop being confusing. But she'd find a day when things were clear in her mind and she'd let him know.

"I know you do. An' I'm gonna keep sayin' it in my head, sayin' it out loud, too, if it doesn't make you mad." Spike paused his slowly thrusting pelvis and lay atop her, holding himself up on his elbows, hands caressing her mussed hair and her lovely, if tired, face.

"What are you going to say?" Buffy was afraid she'd missed something in her moment of musing.

"Buffy loves me." Spike said with conceited smirk.

"Hey! Well- yeah." She blushed. Damn. She did. _Damn. _

His head spun. She admitted it. She still hadn't said the words, but to him, her saying that "yes, she did" or an approximation of that, was almost as good. And the words would come. He could wait. It wasn't his strong point, but he could wait. In the mean time... "Buffy loves me." He said again.

She rolled her eyes and said "Yes! We've established that."

He laughed, "Huh ho, and it bloody irritates you that you can't deny it, doesn't it, Slayer?"

"Just 'cause I- just 'cause I don't wanna kill you doesn't mean I won't beat you up." Buffy threatened.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Luv." He wound his hands under her neck and lay his head against her. "Still can't believe you're lettin' me near you, like this. Lettin' me in you, lettin' me love you." He whispered worshipfully.

"I can't believe you aren't gloating about it." She muttered.

"Buffy." His voice was suddenly sharp. "Look, Pet, I know we play about an' half the fun for us is the good, hard, fight- but I know I'm damn lucky to have you. If I tease, it's cause I love to see your grin. But I wouldn't gloat, and I wouldn't brag. Not until you're braggin' and gloatin' about havin' me as well, anyway." His eyes suddenly saddened, but a half smile still played on his lips. "An' we both know that won't happen."

No, it probably wouldn't. She'd probably never breathe a word about what she did or who she did it with. And it wasn't fair to him. It wasn't fair to her, either, to keep falling in love with vampires and to have to keep hunting down evil, when all she'd ever asked for was cute shoes and a date for homecoming. "I wish things were different." was the most she could say.

"I know." He looked hard at her. "But I don't. As long as I can have you, Pet, I wouldn't change a thing."

The feeling of being warm, safe, and loved crept back over her. "Thanks, Spike." He didn't want to change her. Not urging her to be more mature, to think ahead, past love, like Angel, not telling her to be more casual, more "fun", like Parker, not telling her to deal with things outside of her own pace, like Riley. "You feel so good." Buffy stroked his back and curled her calves around his.

"Mm, kitten's ready to move on, then?" Spike arched into her a little more forcefully, pushing her tight, sensitive core open further. She dug her nails into his back and raised her hips.

"I love this." She whispered, and then bit her lip. Treacherous tongue. She kept making slips, getting closer and closer, and it wasn't time yet. "I wish we'd started like this. That the first time was like this. Well, my _second_ first time."

Spike was quiet for a second and then decided to be stupid and brave, and bear his heart even further than he already had done. She wouldn't hurt him for it, he believed that. But still. He'd never told anyone. "I wish it was, Luv. Would've loved for it to have been sweet like this." His head tossed with hers and they worked into each other fully, until their hip bones grated and she winced. "Sorry, lemme-"

"No! Stay in. No leaving." She whispered.

"No leaving. Can I tell you somethin', Luv?"

"Spike, I've never, ever been able to make you stop talking unless it was via a knockout punch." Buffy laughed and he smirked.

"Seriously, though, Pet. Tell you somethin', if you keep it a secret."

She almost asked if it was disgusting secret, and then stopped. She needed to learn not gouge at him. He wasn't throwing barbs at her anymore. "You're a good listener, I'm happy to return the favor." She looked into his blue eyes and saw them flicker and slide away.

He repositioned his head so he wasn't looking directly at her. Didn't want to see her laugh if she found it funny. "You're kind of a first for me, y'know." He murmured softly.

"Spike, please. The Buffy Bot?"

"Would you not interrupt? I'm bearin' my soul here- an' I know I don't have one, it's a soddin' expression." His tone went from quiet and hesitant to frustrated in a blink.

"I'm sorry. What did you mean?" Buffy soothed, gently stroking his shoulders. He arced his smooth skin deeper into her hands, and she heard a soft purr of contentment, Like a big cat. No, a big kitten. She tried not to giggle.

"First human." He mumbled, eyes meeting hers quickly, before he nuzzled back into her neck.

"What?" She blinked. "First human? _Ever_?"

"Well, yeah." Spike said as if it was no big deal, bravado in his voice, but his eyes were wary.

"But you-"

"Look, Luv, I'm a fool for love, an' you know it. Better than anyone, you know it. In my day, young gents of good families either drank and caroused, and consequently got the clap and paid off scullery maids they'd gotten up the spout. Or they went to good universities and silly parties, and wrote bloody awful poetry. My mum was sickly, an' I looked after her. Was the good son. 'Cause I was the only one, see?"

"I see." Buffy listened, but her eyes showed she didn't understand. "But you said you were always trouble."

"After I was turned, Luv, trouble doesn't even cover what I was like. The bigger the fight, the bloodier, the more violent, the better. But _after _I was turned. I got turned the night I finally told the woman that I loved- that I loved her. An' she wanted to parts of me. Can see why now, I wasn't much of a catch. Too timid, too quiet, an' you know what they say about faint hearts and fair ladies."

Buffy looked horrified. "The night- when you told her you loved her?"

"Yeah." His eyes met hers and neither spoke for a minute. He knew she just got one more piece of the puzzle, why it hurt him so bloody awful when she told him she didn't love him back, or that he couldn't love.

"I'm sorry. For everything." She whispered, and tilted his chin back up so she could kiss him lovingly. "For_ everything_."

"Can't change the past, you can only try to make up for what you've done wrong, what you'd like to do different next time around." He set his jaw and shrugged as best he could while on his elbows. "So then- it was Dru, and then Harm, a couple little vamps in between, when I was between women- an' then it was you. An' it'll never be anyone else but you. See? I'm not overly bright, but I do attempt to learn from my cock ups."

"Spike- don't-"

"Oh, Luv. You know I mean it. _You_ might go off me, but_ I'll _always love you."

"I believe you." She reassured him. "And- for the record- I don't leave unless I die. Then I get brought back anyway, so really- you're kinda stuck."

"I am indeed, Slayer." Spike rocked his waist to hers and she groaned. "You used to me yet?"

"I'll never, ever be used to you. Especially the weird sniffing people and clothes thing."

"I meant-" Spike withdrew and slowly slid back inside her. "Everything comfy?"

"Comfy enough." She smiled up at him.

"Perfect then. What time did you tell Watcher we'd be home?"

"Just after sunset."

"Even better. Think we can go for that long?" He pushed up to his palms and grinned down on her, finding their slow, steady rhythm- at least to start with.

"I have to go find a helmet and get some blood for you." She gasped out as he found her sensitive spot, made beyond sensitive by all the orgasmic activity it had undergone lately. "Or we could just see if room service has helmets."

"I'll let you go. At some point." He kissed her succulent lips and then her neck.

"What- ooooh. Oh." Buffy trembled under him. "No teeth?"

"No fangs, anyway." Spike teased as he nibbled her neck. "Did I find a happy spot?"

"My whole body feels like one big happy spot when you're in me." She complimented him sincerely.

"Think it for me?" Spike slid in and out of her easily, more and more power in each thrust.

"Say it first." Buffy commanded, but sweetly.

"Love you." He whispered, and she unlocked fully around him. He laughed and cradled her to her chest. "They say most communication is non-verbal, Luv. Your body speaks _volumes."_

"What time did they say they were arriving?" Giles asked, for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"They called when they left Cliffside. They should be here soon." Tara called from the kitchen. She and Dawn were making a big welcome home dinner for Buffy.

"And Spike. He's staying." Dawn had insisted.

"Are we sure the big familial dinner is a good idea?" Anya began slicing the tomatoes for the salad. "The last time we saw Buffy she told us we inadvertently sucked her out of heaven. Which explains why she hasn't seemed quite as perky lately. This must be like hell compared to the blissful realm she was in."

"Ahn? Not helping. Do forks go on the left or right?" Xander asked.

"The left." Willow bustled past him hurriedly. No more magic, no more magic, no more magic for 43 more hours. She promised Tara. But then, she would do her forgetting spell on Buffy, and heaven wouldn't even be a memory.

"Giles, can I have some wine?" Dawn put the rolls on the table.

"No, you may not." Giles said firmly, putting a long stemmed glass beside all the places but one.

"Xander! You forgot to set a place for Spike!" Dawn pushed past him and back into the kitchen, retrieving another place setting.

"We are not serving blood with the beautiful meal Tara's making!" Xander argued.

"I don't mind." Said the gentle wicca as she checked her roast.

"Do we even _have _any blood?" Anya asked practically.

"I got some at the butcher's when I got the roast. It should be in the fridge, bottom shelf."

"Spike eats people food." Dawn added defensively.

The puttering of a motorcycle affected the household like a call to arms. "She's here!" Willow clutched her chest. Then she clutched Xander's arm. "What if she's gotten worse? What if she hates us? More than she already does? For the whole 'raising me from the dead and pulling me out of heaven' incident?"

"Don't panic, Will." Xander said, although his cheek jumped with nerves. "We just have to treat her carefully. Like a refugee. She's left someplace really nice, that felt like home, and now she's here."

"But _here_ is home." Willow twisted her hands nervously. She and Xander remained rooted to the spot.

Dawn squealed and burst out of the house, Giles took a hearty gulp of wine, and Tara and Anya went into warp speed in the kitchen.

"I missed you! I'm so glad you're back alive! Well, undead. No one died this time, right?" Dawn bleated as Spike and Buffy pulled into the driveway and dismounted.

"We're fine Niblet- oof!" Spike was hugged surprisingly hard by the teen, and then watched her let go and turn hopefully to Buffy.

"Hi." Buffy held open her arms and Dawn rushed into them. All three in the little tableau exchanged smiles of satisfaction, for one reason or another.

"This is what our reunion should have been like, when she saw me for the first time when she came back to life. She should've been happy to be with me again, and now she is!" Dawn's heart trilled.

"I can love. Look at me- feeling, loving, hugging my baby sister. Hah. Take that Mr. Death and Depression." Buffy's inner voice said triumphantly.

"There we go. My girls are happy an' in one piece. For the moment. Did my job right." Spike sighed in relief and pulled out a cigarette with a slightly shaky hand. He hadn't failed,_ this_ time. He had brought her back home and alive, and by the looks of it- he surveyed the warm embrace that was still going on between the two sisters- somewhat better than when we started.

"Come on, everyone's here, and Tara's cooking. Real food, not take out." Dawn sounded excited. Buffy looked mildly distressed. She knew she wasn't the best in the kitchen, but Dawn didn't need to sound like they lived on Chinese and pizza.

"Well, amen to that, Bit. Your sis has been livin' on sandwiches for three days."

"At least I ate." Buffy snapped defensively. Dawn and Spike looked contrite, and she sighed. Here we go again, guilt and responsibility.

"You're right, Luv. No one's business what you eat, as long as you eat when you want." Spike patted her back, and she sighed again, this time a pleased rush of contentment. At least one person wouldn't push her farther, faster, than she could go.

"Is she alright?" Giles swung the door open, and Buffy's contentment vanished. She shook Spike's hand from her back and forced a bright smile on her face.

"I'm fine. We're fine. Serial killer lady is kaput and I'm starving."

"Thanks for seeing her home, Spike." Giles waved. Spike paused awkwardly at the bottom of the porch stairs.

I'm not gonna force this. I know what I know, an' I'm not gonna rush it- until I can't take it anymore, then I'll make a colossal ass of myself. Spike held still and scrutinized the Watcher's relatively unlined face. Smooth one, for a bookish lad. Ruthless underneath, an' didn't he know it. Spike's eyes flickered. Librarian knows, or thinks he knows, what's goin' on.

"Spike's coming, too!" Dawn cried, simultaneously with Buffy's less bratty sounding:

"Stay for dinner, Spike."

"I'd love to." Spike nodded graciously to the ladies, and smirked devilishly at Giles. _Vampires in love, one, nancy boy wankers, zero._

Dinner was full of glares and strained pauses. And awkward looks. Particularly between Buffy and Spike, who were trying to tell the story of their "undercover" mission from beginning to end. But half the time they'd start speaking, and then clam up, mumble for a minute, and jump ahead.

"So you actually got jobs? You got paid? That's going to really help the debt situation." Anya remarked.

"Did you get to wear anything really cool?" Dawn asked.

"Not much really." Buffy shrugged and Spike choked on a green bean and glared at her. "Not anything special." She amended with a blush.

"When do the pictures come out?" Tara asked with her normal supportive interest. This time Buffy coughed and spluttered on a mouthful of water and Spike hurriedly thumped her on the back.

"Never. Never, none of them. Probably just a front to find pretty little morsels to feed to Aphrodite, the whole operation was smoke an' mirrors." Spike assured hastily.

"No, it exists. We researched it in case it would help. But the company moved and changed ownership about five months ago." Willow explained.

"Yeah, well, _this _agency was a total phony. No doubt of that. And the pictures, everything in the building, were destroyed." Buffy said firmly. She and Spike exchanged another silent, knowing look. Spike nodded and Buffy blanched. He had found the photos before the building went up- or down- whatever- and he still had them, tucked in the seat compartment of the bike or rolled up in one of the many indispensable pockets of the duster.

"So- does anyone want dessert?" Xander asked to break the tension.

"Me!" cried all the occupants of the table.

"Uh- good. I'll go get it." Xander said slowly.

"I'll help!" chorused Anya, Tara, and Willow, who bolted from the table so fast that their chairs rocked.

"Giles, could you help me clear?" Dawn asked sweetly. "Spike, why don't you and Buffy- go put the weapons back in the weapons chest?" She suggested with quick thinking. She yanked Giles to his feet and began unceremoniously piling plates in his arms. While he was distracted, Dawn mouthed, "Go! Now!"

"Um. Sure." Buffy led the way to the living room.

"Not that one, Buffy. The chest in your room." Dawn hissed as she shoved Giles towards the kitchen and hung back. "Just go, talk, kiss, whatever, but come back down without the freaky glances."

"Freaky glances?" Buffy cried, but Spike shushed her and picked up her book bag from where she'd left it on the couch. He furtively reached in his duster pocket and slipped out a bulging manila envelope as well, hid it smoothly in her backpack and headed up the stairs behind her.

"Kiss?" Spike leered at Buffy once she shut the door. "Bit's either got ESP, or we're givin' off some pretty hot vibes."

"Neither. I hope. No, I told her we kissed. But that's _all_ I told her." She glared at him.

"Well, don't look at me, Luv. Can't even imagine tryin' to talk to Bit about birds 'n' bees type stuff. Gives me the collywobbles." He shuddered emphatically and Buffy had to laugh. "What?"

"The big bad vamp is afraid of talking to Dawn about the facts of life?"

"Bloody hell, yes. And aren't you?" He asked sternly.

"Umm. Terrified. Thank God she already knows. I just meant- I'm not saying we did more than kiss."

"Fine with me. But what about the rest? They may be thick as two planks, all of them, but they know something's different."

"I wouldn't have acted so weirded out if I hadn't realized you had the pictures. Pictures equal badness. Mucho badness."

"Here." Spike ripped the package open and dumped the photos on the bed. "No one'll see 'em but us. Or we can burn 'em, I've got my lighter, we can say I dropped a ciggie."

"I- let's each keep a couple. Somewhere safe and _private_." Buffy pleaded.

"Would you stop thinkin' I'm gonna wave these around in front of my poker buddies? Aside from bein' seen cuddlin' the Slayer, I look like a right ponce in these. You look beautiful, though."

"Just hurry up and pick." Buffy sighed, rifling through what were mainly negatives, and one or two enlargements of poses that either Art or Mel had really liked.

They each took one from each of the three photo shoots, Spike tending to pick ones that focused on her, and she choosing ones where he dominated the scene. "I'll get rid of the rest." Buffy said, not quite looking at him. These photos- they were from such a confusing few days. And each one triggered a hundred uncomfortable, but important, memories.

"We don't need pictures, do we, Baby?" Spike whispered in her ear. "We've got the real thing." His hands trailed down her shirt, skilled fingers nudging each rib, finally resting on her hips. His hardness was suddenly prominent against her tailbone.

"We can't. Everyone's downstairs." She breathed, feeling herself falling into the pool of lust he created, wetness seeping from her overstimulated tunnel to welcome him in.

"You've gotta patrol tonight, don't you? Want a bit of help?"

"I- I don't know." She bit her lip. "I might take tonight off. I haven't seen Dawn in days. It isn't for any other reason than that, Spike, I promise. I just want to be a good sister to Dawn."

"That's fine in my book, Luv." Spike fought down his rising desire. "You an' Bit get good an' sister-y."

"We better get back." She whispered. Neither of them budged. Their heads tentatively weaved close together, tilting slightly, as if they'd never kissed before, and suddenly she struck out and crushed her lips up on his. They kissed urgently, a little mewl of want emanating from her throat. "Not here. Not here." She hissed between kisses. Her hands were already finding paths under his shirt.

"Right. Need to stop." He nodded, gasping for air as her fingers rimmed his waist band with a quivering touch.

"I need to spend time with Dawn." Buffy murmured, slowing her hungry kisses.

"I know." Spike savored the last one before she pulled away. "Later tonight, after she's asleep? I could stop by?"

"Tara and Willow are here." She said after a moment, calculating the risk, and deciding it wasn't worth it. "If they heard us- they'd probably rush in and turn us into mice, thinking we were possessed or something."

Spike sighed. "Not that I wouldn't chance it, Luv, but I doubt you'd be happy as a mouse."

"I do like cheese..." She gave a half-smile and opened the door, unthinkingly holding Spike's hand to lead him out, and continued holding it as they headed down the hall.

Spike stared at the petite fingers wrapping around his own. It must have felt natural, what with the desire washing over her whenever he got close to her, like his did when he was near her. And it wasn't as though he hadn't made her feel those desires before, she had just always ignored them and ramped up her hatred to squelch the feelings. Now, she felt safe with him, and therefore the hand holding. But she'd be right annoyed with herself, and him, if the Scoobies saw them holding hands. "Luv?" Spike whispered.

"Hmm?" Buffy replied, a shade too casually.

"Jus' wanted to make sure you realized you were holdin' my hand before we run into one of your mates."

"Oh." Buffy guiltily retracted her fingers, ignoring the pained smiled on his face, and wiping the unconcerned little half-grin she'd been wearing off her own. "Spike-" she began.

"There you are! Chocolate cake and chocolate ice cream's a waitin'." Xander poked his head around the bannister at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, chocolate. Yummy." Buffy quickened her pace. As soon as Xander was facing towards the dining room, she gave Spike a quick glance that said "That was close!" and he returned it.

Over dessert, Buffy continued to answer all the questions about their recent trip, and Spike stayed quiet, except when she explicitly asked him to supply a detail. She was amazed that he could manage to hold his tongue for so long (and then she had a complete sentence kablooie because she started thinking of Spike's tongue). But she knew why he was keeping quiet- they had way fewer awkward pauses when only one of them had to edit out all the loving exploration and realizations that had gone on.

Through dessert, Spike had two missions. To fight his rising erection and his rising annoyance. He'd said he didn't mind bein' her secret, that he didn't want to push, but he did. No one was bein' rude to him- well, not ruder than he was to them, so he was fine with stayin' and chattin'. But he was goin' mad watchin' her an' not bein' able to touch her.

"I think I'd like some Dawnie and me time tonight. No patrolling, okay, Giles?" Buffy put down her fork after licking the last traces of chocolate of it.

Spike about cracked his ribs holding in the groan he wanted to release. The way she trailed her tongue up the fork tines, slowly, from bottom to top, catching any left over chocolate crumbs- far too reminiscent of the way she dragged her tongue up the vein at the back of his cock, the one that couldn't throb, and yet somehow did.

Buffy met his eye and quickly put down her fork. She hadn't meant to tease him.

"Okay- does anyone else see that?" Xander demanded. "That was one of those weird glances. Buff- what's going on? What aren't you telling us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Anya said cheerfully. "While they were away, Buffy-"

"Oops!" Dawn elbowed her full glass of milk into Anya's lap, causing a gasp and screech, and general confusion as people went for paper towels, pushed back from the table in order to avoid getting wet, and Dawn made an almost tearful apology.

"It's been fun, but I'm gonna leave now, 'fore one of you accidentally starts knocking holy water over as well." Spike raised his hand in farewell, picked up his duster from the sofa and headed to the front door. "Bit, you want one ride 'round the block?"

"Yes!" Dawn squealed. "Sorry again!" She hugged Anya tightly, and chased after Spike.

"Helmet!" Buffy called anxiously. Dawn grabbed the helmet that was on the coat rack by the door and left with a slam.

"I'm going to go home. I need to change. And- if this stains-" Anya said crossly.

"Milk won't stain." Tara soothed.

"I'm soo sorry." Buffy apologized again. "You know Dawn. Total spaz."

"I know! It's that gangly limbed stage. She's graceful, yet clumsy. Anyway, I was only trying to say that you and Spike-oww!"

"Oh no! Was that your foot?" Buffy looked horrified. Anya glared.

"You two obviously bonded." Anya finished. She looked at Buffy with a smirk. Xander shook his head and muttered, and Willow and Tara exchanged a look.

"Well- yeah. I guess. I mean, he's a vampire, but he isn't a bad one. I mean, he's bad, but he's not evil. Well, he is, but-"

"He's on our side now?" Willow attempted.

"Exactly." Buffy smiled gratefully. "And he was really, really great. A-and you guys are great, too, but I don't worry about him when he fights. I know he can hold his own."

"Plus, it _is_ Spike." Giles said challengingly. "Naturally he wouldn't provoke the same concerns as a friend or family member would."

"Yeah. Right." Buffy agreed, suddenly sounding much more lifeless.

"You needn't have spilled all over demon girl, Niblet." Spike called over the engine. They watched Xander's battered second hand car pull away from the drive and they ended a second lap around the block.

"I know. But it made it easier didn't it?"

"Gotta admit that." He chuckled. "Why're you doin' it, though?"

"Spike, geez! I am so not Buffy. I don't have to have a reason to help you. I just want to." Dawn huffed.

"No, Bit, I get that, I'm jus' wonderin' whay makes you think big sis an' I need help?"

"Oh, puh-lease! You two are so totally into each other. Like you were, before she- you know. You look at her like she's the only one in the room, you watch her talk like she's unloading ancient wisdom- and it is Buffy. _No_ wisdom, ancient or otherwise."

"That obvious? Still? Dammit, thought I'd gotten better at bein' casual."

"Not so much. But now, she does it too- only it's like she's scared to. But when you talk, her head goes down, and her eyes slide to you. When you two do actually look at each other- at the same time, because it's so funny, but you keep looking at her when she isn't looking at you, and vice versa. But anyway, when you look at each at the same time, you both stop whatever you're doing for a second." Dawn heaved a deep sigh. "It's so romantic. You're in love."

"Well, I bleedin' knew that, and I'll thank you not to mention it." Spike said hotly, pulling back into the driveway.

"I meant 'you're in love' as in both of you. She is, too. I can tell. I'm her sister."

Spike felt a hot rush go through his body, not the erotic kind, the happy kind. Knowing that it wasn't all in his head was immensely comforting. "You think?"

"Duh. And Anya was totally going to spill. So- I did it first." They shared a mischievous laugh.

"Look, Dawn... Buffy doesn't like feelin' that way. About me. So- don't shove her along, alright?"

"I won't. Much." Dawn hugged Spike quickly goodnight, and put the helmet back on the sissy bar. She began walking back to the house, then turned. "Aren't you gonna come say goodnight to her?"

"Don't you think I want to?" Spike countered, deftly lighting a cigarette. "It's not what I want. It's what _she_ wants. An' I don't think she-" Spike stopped dead. A square of gold light lit the darkness of the Summers' lawn. Someone- someone small who walked with quick, short steps, was coming out the front door.

"What she wants, huh?" Dawn giggled. "I'm going to go inside... and keep everyone away from the windows."

"Dawn!" Buffy heard this last remark and shot an angry glare between Spike and her sister.

"Oh, stop doing that to him! He was just saying he wasn't even going to come in and say goodnight, giving you time and space, and stuff. Being a good boyfriend."

"He is not my boyfriend!" Buffy hissed. Spike quirked an eyebrow at her, lips twitching in a smile.

"Is that so?" He asked, watching her flush and fluster.

"You're not a boy. You're not exactly a friend either. He's more like- my significant other." Buffy put her face in her hands with a moan. Dawn yipped and did a little victory dance. Spike forgot that he was leaning against the bike and fell over the seat, sitting up startled, cursing as his cigarette scorched his hand.

"Don't you dare tell anyone else about this, Dawn Summers." Buffy threatened.

"I won't! I swear, I promise! I'm just really, _really_ happy. I'm gonna go in now."

Spike picked himself up and dusted himself down, shaking his singed hand. "Well." He coughed and ran his good hand through his platinum locks. Buffy stared him down with cold eyes and crossed arms. He held her gaze until is softened. "Fancy a quick walk around the lawn?"

"The lawn?" Buffy followed him as he swaggered slowly towards the large oak in by the side of the house. "Why in the world would I want to -mphm!" She smacked his shoulder as he grabbed her around the waist and kissed her hard. "Spike!" She pushed him off. He quickly pulled her back to his arms, and she reluctantly kissed him back, the kissing intensifying, burning an ache into her that threatened to erupt. And just when she thought she'd suddenly lose all her common sense and push him to the ground to have him soothe the raging desires- he stopped.

"Wanted to kiss you goodnight. I know you're busy tonight, Luv. I'll patrol for you. An' you an me? Tomorrow?"

"You and I what?" She gasped out.

"Patrol." He said simply.

"Oh. Yeah. Okay."

"Right then." Spike shrugged deeper into his duster and headed back to his bike, shoulder to shoulder to her. "Goodnight, Beautiful."

"Goodnight- Spike." She blushed and squeezed his arm quickly before he got on and rode away.

Giles and Willow conferred over the dishes. "I want you to check something for me. I want to know if that Melissite creature might have cast a spell over Buffy."

"Why? She's acting okay. I mean, not normal or anything, but we did kinda rip her out of an eternal rest." Willow looked guiltily at the scrub brush in her hand and attacked a plate.

"She isn't acting a tad strangely towards Spike?" Giles pressed, drying a wine glass carefully.

"They just spent a long weekend together. You spend time alone, you get close." Willow shrugged.

Giles suddenly remembered watching _Passions_ with Spike when the newly chipped vampire had been held "captive" at his house. Spike was annoying, but entertaining company. And during this past dreadful summer, when there was so much to cope with and grieve for, he'd pulled his weight, been part of the team, and especially good with nurturing Dawn. He'd done far better than anyone else had, in fact. "I suppose Buffy might- no, Willow, I can't see it. If it were anyone other than Buffy and Spike, I'd think maybe some strange friendship had developed, but those two..."

"Hold the olympic title in the 'pissing each other off' division?" Willow put the last plate away.

"I was going to say that they argue constantly and represent the dichotomy of good and evil." Giles polished his glasses with an aching expression. "But your metaphor works just as well. They don't mix. Not without some magical assistance." He glared at Willow.

"Look, I cast that spell two years ago! Please let it go. I- I get all guilty and cookie-baking-y whenever anyone brings that up." Willow blushed, recalling the night her "Thy will be done spell" had caused an offhand remark about Buffy's preoccupation with hunting down and capturing Spike to turn into the strangest engagement anyone had ever borne witness to.

"Just check for a spell. Please." Giles relented.

"What was that?" Tara, holding the half-finished glass cake pan and remaining cake walked into the kitchen in time to hear Giles' request. "Willow- you promised-"

"And I did, Baby, I swear!" Willow rushed to her girlfriend's side. "No magic for 5 days now. I would have told Giles I had to wait."

"Or you could have come to me." Tara looking accusingly at Giles.

"I'm truly sorry, Tara. I know I could have, I'm sorry. Can you please check to see if Buffy is under any magical influence?"

"Does this have something to do with Spike?" Tara asked.

"Does what have something to do with Spike?" Buffy demanded. After Spike had kissed her breathless and then left, she walked around the house for a few minutes, trying to refocus, to kill the naughty, lusty thoughts she was having. Thoughts involving sneaking over to his crypt and climbing in beside him on his ridiculously ornate bed. While walking, she'd realized suddenly that she'd miss him lying near her. He didn't breathe in his sleep, he wasn't exactly warm, but he kept the dreams away. In fact- she hadn't had dreams since the night he had comforted her, made the tremors stop. She was afraid that tonight all the dreams would be back, and they'd be worse than ever. Especially if she'd dreamed about heaven, after she'd decided not to risk going back.

Buffy realized her three friends were staring at her with expressions ranging from nervous to puzzled to guilt-ridden. "Did I miss something?"

"Uh, Buffy- sit." Willow suggested.

"I don't want to sit, I want to know why you're all looking jumpy and why you were talking about Spike." She crossed her arms and set her chin.

Dawn hollered from upstairs, interrupting the quiet. "Buffy! Can I borrow your gold hoop earrings tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Dawn. Whatever you want- but put it back when you're done." Buffy called back.

"Are you coming up soon?"

"In a few! You get in bed, I'll come up in a minute." Buffy forced her angriest expression to the forefront and glared at Giles and Willow. Tara honestly looked confused.

"Buffy, you were around a very, very powerful creature. I don't know what powers the Melissite had, but I feel it would be wise if we checked you for any magical interference." Giles said in his calm, reasonable voice.

A week ago, Buffy wouldn't have cared what they'd wanted to do. She was drifting along, pretending to enjoy doing what was expected of her, and if she was expected to have Giles' own version of a check up, she would have had one. Now, though, she asked questions. "What makes you think I might be under the influence?"

"You're being nice to Spike." Willow hazarded.

"He's done a lot of things, and even though he isn't _good_, he's trying to help us, the _good guys_. I just think you should cut him a break, geez." A nagging thought suddenly occurred to her. _What if it was all a spell? The love? Is that good? It's a way out of it, that's for sure. But do I want out?_

"Just let me check, Buffy, I can do it with a seeing crystal, and I have one upstairs. All I need is you, the crystal and three minutes. It'll be done." Tara explained, not sure why her lover and Mr. Giles found it suddenly necessary to think Buffy had a "thing" for Spike. Everyone knew he loved her, and she certainly seemed to like hanging out with him lately. People can change. Look at Willow. Look at her. They were both so much more confident now, and they'd started out as just shy friends. Which might actually help make Mr. Giles' case. Look how_ they'd _ended up...

"Fine." Buffy sighed after a half minute of silence. "You aren't gonna find anything." She let a touch of bitterness creep into her voice. And a tiny, tiny note of worry. What if they did find something? What if it wasn't real? Oh, God no. I'd rather be in love with him, with a vampire, and have it be real, something I can't deny, than have one more thing in this stupid, cruel world hurt again. No more lies and no more broken promises. No more leaving.

The four of them trooped upstairs, earning a puzzled frown from Dawn who was walking between the bedroom and bathroom with her toothbrush sticking out of the corner of her mouth. "Whosh up?" She asked through the bristles and foam.

"Giles just needs Tara to check something for me." Buffy answered quickly, curtailing anyone else's reply. There was no way she'd involve Dawn in this game of giving people hope and yanking it away- unless her feelings for Spike were just some trick. Then she'd have to tell her. Break her heart. Break Spike's heart_. Maybe even my own..._

Tara found the clear purple crystal in a drawer of their dresser, and told Buffy to sit cross-legged on the floor. Tara sat down and gave Buffy a wavery smile. She took another crystal from beside its mate, and struck the tips together, making a spark. "Through this light let me see." Tara intoned, and pushed one crystal into Buffy's palm.

Tara peered hard at something that only she as the spell caster could see. "Oh, Buffy... your aura- it's healing. The black is drifting away." Tara murmured in a soft, melodious voice. "And there's magic here- but it's not a spell. You've been in close contact with magical creatures, but that's all.

"How can you tell that?" Giles demanded, breaking the peace and reverence surrounding the two women on the floor.

"She only has traces of other colors. If she'd been under a spell, her whole aura would have had kind of a- a wash over it." Tara stood up.

"That's it?" Buffy asked with a surprised frown.

"It's not hard to do." Willow pointed out. "See? She's fine. Buffy- you're better! _Getting_ better, anyway!"

"I guess so." Buffy shrugged and forced a smile to her face. She stood up, and covered her chest protectively. "I'm really tired, guys. Can we call it a night? I'm sorry, I just-"

"No, no of course!" Giles hugged his charge briefly and kissed her forehead. "Rest."

"Thanks." Buffy hugged him back. She looked up at him. Sometimes he made her crazy, but he was part of her life. "Thanks for being a pain in the butt, Giles. I guess it's nice to know you care enough to be paranoid." She smiled up at him with a flash of her old brightness and Giles felt his heart lift considerably.

"It's what I do best." He rubbed her shoulder affectionately, and pointed to the hall. "I'll see myself out. If one of you would come and lock the door behind me, that is."

"I'll do it." Willow said quickly. "I'm- I'm glad you feel a little better, Buffy, If there's anything I can do, let me know. There are spells that can-"

Buffy interrupted forcefully, cutting her off with a frantic slice of her hand. "No! If anyone else ever messes with my life, Will- I couldn't take it. I can't."

Tara put her arm around the redhead's shoulders. "Honey, we talked about this. You can't force things to happen." Tara said pointedly. "You can't make people forget where they've been or what they've seen. Not without hurting them later."

Willow's lips twisted in the hesitant tremble she got when she felt like she'd been caught dipping into the figurative cookie jar. "Well, I- I was offering. I want to help. Please, Buffy, just tell me what to do, I'll do anything to help."

Buffy stared at her for a minute. "Make me a promise. Two promises."

"Name it." Willow said, eagerly grasping her best friend's hands.

"One, if I ever die again- let me rest." Tears suddenly formed in green eyes, and Willow's chin began to wobble as her own tears began to sting. "Two, don't leave me, no matter what I do?"

"I promise. I promise, Buffy." The two hugged, really hugged, for the first time since they'd been reunited. A hug with nothing wooden, or forced about it, and one that was given and received with mutual intensity. Tara looked on, beaming for a moment, before slowly drifting down the stairs with Giles to see him on his way.

Soon after that much needed moment, the house settled into darkness and relative quiet. Tara and Willow were wrapped in bed together, whispering, soothing worries and fears that had been unspoken all week, ever since the night when Tara had confronted Willow about her overuse of magic.

Dawn and Buffy sat in the younger girl's room, the only light coming from a pink desk lamp. "So, I'm all yours. For an hour. And then you go to bed- you have school tomorrow."

"Do I _have_ to go? Couldn't we have some sort of special 'my sister is really alive, all-over alive' excuse note?"

"Was I that bad?" Buffy laughed softly, stroking her sister's hair.

"You were here- but you weren't _here_, here." Dawn leaned against her sister's warmth, and sighed. "I was so scared you'd never come back. And I'd be alone."

"I know. I'm sorry." Buffy struggled over the bitter taste the apology left in her mouth. She wasn't sorry. She was annoyed. She hadn't meant to hurt Dawn, of course, but she hadn't meant to be there at all. She had meant to rest. It was others who had forced her back to a world where she could only half function.

"You don't have to be sorry. I'm just saying I'm happy." Dawn hugged her sister around her waist, laying her head on her knee as Buffy continued to run her hands through her hair. "And it makes you sad to talk about it, so let's not. I'm so happy you're starting to feel better, and I don't want to do anything to make you think bad thoughts."

Buffy laughed as her sister abruptly bounced up and spoke in a girlish giggle. "Tell me about Spike."

"He's blonde, about 5'10'', pain in the ass, smokes too much, and has really bad taste in daytime television."

"Buffy!" Dawn nudged her. "C'mon. You kissed him? Is he your boyfriend now?"

"He isn't my boyfriend." Buffy insisted stubbornly, a guarded look on her face.

"Okay. But you don't hate him anymore?"

"Uhh. I'm not entirely sure of that."

"Do you love him?"

"Dawn!" Buffy looked horrified, and then pretended to be intensely interested in her sister's bedspread.

"You are! You _are_! Buffy and Spike, sitting in a tree-"

"Oh, God, and I listened to you the other day. I thought you were mature!" Buffy walloped her with one of the pillows.

"I don't see why it's so bad. He loves you. He loves me. And he can't die and leave us. Without a lot of effort anyway. B-but he's lived for a really long time, he's not gonna go anywhere. Right?"

Buffy saw the fear in Dawn's eyes, and she realized afresh how hard her loss must have hit her. For her sister to be so reliant on someone that was so dark. "No, he's 's tough, he can survive. He's the faithful kind."

"That's good." Dawn met Buffy's eyes. "What does 'significant other' mean?"

"I don't know." Buffy whispered. "I think I'm scared to find out."

"Oh." Dawn looked shocked. Buffy didn't get scared. Of anything or anyone. Not even death.

"I guess it means we're not gonna fight. Much. I'm gonna miss that."

"I bet he'll train with you. Spike loves to fight. He'll patrol with you."

"I know."

"And dinner afterward?"

"No. No dinner. No movies. No date stuff."

"Why?" Dawn whined. "You like normal. That's normal. I know he isn't your average guy, but he'd try to be, for you."

Buffy sighed and then hit her sister with a pillow again.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"For being right again." Buffy gave her a mock pout. "I don't think we'll do 'normal' for a long time, Dawnie. In the mean time, I guess 'significant other' means he'll be around."

"Good." Dawn nuzzled against her sister once more as she sank down with a yawn. "I love you, Buffy."

"Love _you_." Buffy kissed her sister's forehead and slowly eased off the bed. "You look sleepy. I'm beat. See you before school?" Dawn nodded sleepily and waved goodnight.

Buffy undressed for bed and scrubbed her face before climbing under the covers. Her eyes refused to shut, her body refused to relax. She sat back up. This is ridiculous. I am not going to go all school girl, do the "can't eat, can't sleep" routine over a stupid guy with a bad dye job and a liquid diet. I'm _not_ going to go running over there, and I'm _not_ going to hope he comes here.

Her feet were back on the floor before she was even aware of it, mouth forming curses and hands rummaging angrily in the closet. No! No, I can't do this. I can't leave Dawn tonight, I promised her. I'm being a good sister, she sighed heavily.

Her eyes fell on the backpack, now on the floor of the closet. She fell to her knees and seized on it gratefully.

"Okay. Here we go. It's stupid, but it helps." Buffy grabbed one of the three photos she had kept. She chose the one where Spike was on his back, when they were topless together, that first shoot. She never noticed how worshipfully he was looking up at her. "I'm safe, I'm warm, I'm loved." She clutched the photo to her chest, and crawled back into bed. "He'll never let me live this down, if he finds out." Buffy groaned, and closed her eyes, feeling the muscles in her body relax as she imagined the feel of his naked chest under her, the feel of cool palms on her breasts. The wetness started to find its way from her belly to her womanhood as she pictured the other events of that night. "Oh God..." Her hand found its way down, of its own volition, and she rolled to her side, picture still beside her. "I'm warm, I'm safe, I'm loved. Or at least I will be by tomorrow night." A quick feline smile crossed her face before her body relaxed, finding solace in the thoughts of her lover.

Spike punched the vamp neatly through the chest with a stake, whistling as he did so. Another advancing from behind- lunge, dust! The whistling intensified.

"W-would you stop being so cheerful?" Panted the third and final attacking vampire.

"Nope." Spike grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him up. "Got a secret, mate." Spike snarled suddenly and hammered the vamp into the ground, hearing the bones crunch in his hand. "Not s'posed to tell, but you won't be talkin'..." Spike gave one hard twist and the vertebrae holding the skull to the spine snapped, and a cloud of dust engulfed him as he said, "I'm in love."

Switching to humming now, Spike got up and patted his duster pocket as he put the stake away. "Ain't that right, Baby?" He murmured, and his fingers brushed one glossy photo nestled in the black leather. He began to walk towards his crypt, and then turned abruptly. No. It was a nice night.

Spike smiled broadly as he lit a cigarette, brushing the smooth surface of the photo again as he returned his silver lighter to his pocket. Bloody gorgeous night, shame to waste it inside. 'Sides. Too happy to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

A Model Romance

By Sweetprincipale

_Author's Note: Strictly Spuffy, a gift for Lithium Reaper, based on four beautiful black and white photos depicting Spike and Buffy in various romantic "photo shoot" style poses._

_Set in Season Six, immediately after Once More with Feeling, goes completely away from canon- you've been warned._

_Thank you to all for the positive responses so far! _

_This chapter dedicated to Idiosyncratic Delusions, iSage, Spirited Ghost, Hannah the Bloody, and of course, Lithium Reaper, who found the art to inspire the piece._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

Buffy woke up drenched in sweat, breathing hard, eyes wide. Whoa. So had never had a dream like _that _before. She slowly sat up and immediately reached under the pillow beside hers. Yep. Picture still there. Better hide that.

She took the photo and stuffed it in the far reaches of her sock drawer, legs trembling slightly as she walked._ I was figuring I'd have nightmares. Totally didn't figure on the XXX-rated Spike and Buffy film fest happening in my sleep._

She looked quickly at the clock. About half an hour before Dawn would get up and get off to school. She would shower quickly, wash the hot, sweaty, lustiness off her. She cast a guilty look towards her rumpled sheets. She'd never had erotic dreams like that. With Angel, the dreams were about love, with Riley, they were about missions and occasionally bedroom cameos. She only daydreamed about Parker. Now, with Spike, she dreamed in vivid color, scent, texture, taste, and sound. She could hear her breathing accelerate when he first entered her, hear that smoky voice telling her to think about how she loved him, to make her open up her body to him, to make her vulnerable- and then use that vulnerability to give her earth-shattering pleasure.

She blushed again as she bathed, feeling how wet she was, how hot her skin was, how flushed. But the physical reaction wasn't the only thing she blushed for. In her dreams she told him she loved him, and he never left. _I guess I did dream about heaven. A sick, twisted kind of heaven, but I'll take what I can get._

_ S_pike cursed the daylight more than usual. Mr. Hand was no match for the soft slickness of Buffy's warm and welcoming chasm. But she had to come to him, not the other way around, at least in the light. And unless she needed information, that wasn't very likely. Still, after their time alone together, he sort of hoped things might be different.

He wouldn't give in to his burning ache. She was going to take care of it for him, after patrol, or before, or during. Hopefully all three. Bleedin' Slayer, bloody little tease. She knew exactly what to do to make him want her more and more. The way she looked up at him with those soft green eyes. The way she suddenly lashed out, just begging to find a truly masterful man to show he wasn't put off by her strength. And the way she could make love- call it whatever she wanted, but the last few times they were together, her body said "I love you" to him a hundred times louder than her voice ever could.

Dammit. Spike retreated to the lower region of his crypt. Either he would have to take care of this himself, or he would have to take a cold shower to put put the fire for now. Cold showers were the only kind he had access to anyway, with the crude spigot he'd rigged up to tap into one of the city's meandering water pipes that passed through the far corner of the lower half of his crypt. He stood between the bed, where his prized three photos were laid, and the shower, indecisive. "Why don't you just come for a visit, you little minx? End my dilemma for me?" He muttered. With a resolute sigh, he headed for the shower.

"You seem kind of jumpy." Willow finally voiced her opinion to Buffy. Willow was surrounded by her text books and laptop, and Buffy was sitting on the floor, idly playing with the remote and watching the _Price is Right, _constantly twitching and checking her watch.

"I just really want to get out and patrol tonight. No offense to Xander and Anya- or you, if you helped out, but I'm betting the vamp population didn't exactly do a big decline while I was away."

"I went out a couple times." Willow said defensively. And then chewed her lip. "We did okay. But you would have dusted 'em in ten minutes and been on to the next ones. Without Spike helping us patrol over the- summer- we probably would be up to our eyeballs in them."

"I'm glad you guys had him while I was gone then." Buffy shrugged, ignoring the small kernel of pain that settled in her stomach when she thought about where she'd been during summer, and that she wouldn't be going back for awhile. Although sooner than she should, she guessed. Slayers don't live that long. Ha._ She_ hadn't, that was for damn sure.

"Did I say something wrong?" Willow asked tentatively. Her hands itched to get on the ingredients for a forgetting spell, and take all those sad thoughts away- but she knew now that she couldn't. She had promised Buffy she wouldn't screw with her life, and promised Tara she wouldn't try to use magic to force away people's thoughts or experiences, even if it seemed for the best. And as Tara reminded her, the spells could be broken, and the pain would be fresh. Let Buffy heal without magical assistance.

"I was just thinking about patrolling. Haven't been 'into' it in awhile. I mean, I know I went out and did it, but I was just kind of going through the motions." Buffy got to her feet and walked to her weapons chest. Willow looked agonized, and she could easily guess why. Slaying was her calling, and she didn't really care for the abnormality it invoked. But she _did_ love kicking some demon butt. To hear her admit that she'd been faking something she used to enjoy so much... "I think I'm actually looking forward to it." She smiled suddenly, surprised at herself as she realized she wasn't just covering, she really _was_ excited at the prospect.

"Y-you are? That's awesome, Buffy!" Willow tossed her history book aside and smashed into Buffy with a hard hug, completely unheeding the open weapons chest and the variety of sharp wooden objects the blonde was pouring over. "Sorry. I'm just so happy you're healing. I know it's mainly my fault- the- the being here again, but I'm so glad you're not _as _miserable. You aren't? Right?"

"No. I don't think I am." Buffy admitted after a second's introspection. Something- someone- was making her feel strangely (emphasis on the strange) happy.

"I'm home, and I brought leftovers from the bake sale!" Dawn elbowed her way into the Summers' home, hands full of foil wrapped packages.

"Ooh. Now I'm really happy." Buffy giggled and got to her feet. She hugged her sister, ignoring her yelps that she was crushing the sugary treats, and then began rifling through the packages. "Oh, yes. Snickerdoodles. Slay-food. Sugar on sugar." Buffy began plowing in. "Wha?" She asked with her mouth full.

"You're eating. And no one's bugging you to do it." Dawn said softly. "I'm glad you like things again, that's all." Dawn deposited her bag on the floor, pulled out her math homework, and then stared at her sister.

Buffy looked uncomfortable. "I know it makes you happy that I'm better. But I'm not all better, guys, and the 'look, she's eating!' routine doesn't help."

"Sorry." Willow and Dawn said contritely.

Willow cleared her throat. "So, what other goodies are in here?"

The trio spent a few minutes sampling and critiquing Dawn's stash, and then Buffy headed to the kitchen. "I'm gonna put in the leftovers from last night. Okay?"

"It's kinda early for dinner." Dawn pointed out. "And Tara isn't home yet."

"Well... I just wanted to get on patrol a little early tonight."

"Are you going alone?" Dawn asked nervously.

"Don't I usually?"

"Yeah, but- I don't know. I guess I liked knowing you had someone to watch your back. Can't Spike go with you?"

"Dawnie." Willow admonished softly. The last thing Buffy needed was for someone to cramp her style, or to piss her off and make her mopey again. On the other hand... "That's a good idea." Willow changed camps abruptly. Spike tended to cause Buffy's temper to flare- and anger was a far more productive emotion than depression. With depression, you sat and let the darkness fill you until you did stupid things. Anger made you get up and take risks, also stupid, but if Spike was patrolling with her, the worst that would happen was a broken nose- his.

"I'm sorry? Did I hear that right? Both of you want me to take a neutered vamp with a punk rock obsession with me tonight?" Buffy forced herself to sound incredulous and annoyed. "I can totally handle this myself, you know."

"We know that. But Spike makes me feel less worried." Dawn wheedled.

"And like you said, the Scoobies didn't do such an awesome job patrolling while you and Spike were away. There's probably dozens of vampires roaming the streets, and you could use an extra pair of hands, right?"

Buffy poked her head through the doorframe into the dining room. "Fine! I'll see if he can patrol. If he doesn't have something more pressing to do, like gamble or catching up on his soaps. But it can't always be this way." Buffy withdrew, back to the kitchen and early dinner preparations, fighting down the smile on her face. If only they knew...

Dawn came in and passed Buffy a large bundle of crinkled aluminum. "For Spike. Different cookies and some brownies." Buffy allowed a reflexive frown to come to her face, and Dawn put her hands on her hips. "You don't have to pretend with me, remember?" She whispered.

"I know. I know I don't, Dawn. But I still think I'm having trouble not pretending with myself." Buffy let her sister pull her into a hug.

"It's a good thing he's so stubborn." Dawn laughed suddenly. "You take a loooong time to see things that are right in front of you."

Buffy gave her sister a playful slap on the arm. "I'll take the damn cookies. Geez, you with the reasoning and the wisdom." She looked at her little sister suspiciously. "You learned that from Spike, didn't you?"

"And I can totally fleece people when I play poker, too." Dawn smiled triumphantly. Buffy groaned and hurried up. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even herself entirely, but she couldn't wait to see the vampire in question.

As soon as sunset began, there was a knock on his door. Spike threw it open as if he'd been waiting beside it the whole time. To hell with casual. He just wanted to see if it was her. It smelled like her, the heartbeat was right, but he'd thought of nothing besides her all day, and he could well-believe he'd caused himself a sensory mirage.

"Hi." She greeted, hands twisting in her black leather coat, face anxious.

"Come in, Luv." He smiled softly, chest muscles unclenching.

"Do you still want to patrol?" She demanded.

"Yeah." His smile faded. "We're back to business as usual, then?" He whispered tightly.

"I-" Buffy swallowed. "No." She forced the word out. She'd let almost a full day pass, had every opportunity to talk herself out of it. And like the moth to the flame, she was back. No, not like that. She wasn't going to get burned, not by him. "No. Not just- not like before."

"Good. Good." He let out a shaking laugh. "Scared me."

"I? Scared you?"

"Well, yeah. Bloody hell, Slayer, you've always made me a bit nervous. Find that absolutely irresistible, y'know." He paced around her, circling her into the wall, placing his hands on the cool cement behind her head, pinning her there without touching her. "You're a bit early for patrol, Pet."

"You can go out if the light's this low." She argued, trying to make her blood stop pulsing so hard, and make her flushing cheeks turn back to their normal shade.

"If there's cover. From here- not movin' for at least another, I dunno, 20 minutes?"

"Twenty minutes? Spike, it's almost dark already!" Buffy caught his eye as he smirked seductively. "Oh."

"Oh." His fingers gently tangled in her hair and he pulled her close. "Missed you all day, Luv. Didn't sleep at all last night. Wanted to stay awake and think about you." He bent his head and kissed her gently.

Her soft moan rippled against his lips. "Tell me you missed me?" He pulled away to stare into her eyes intensely.

"I didn't_ miss _you. But I thought about you a lot." She admitted. Spike's hardness suddenly pressed into her as his hips pushed her more firmly into the wall. "Spike..."

"You thought about me a lot, did you? Wet thoughts, Pet? Me inside you thoughts, Luv?" She kissed him again, silencing him. He broke the kiss before he could give into it completely. "It's okay if you did, you know. I did."

"Yeah, well, you're a pig." She found her arms going across his back, one hand finding his shirt tail and untucking it from his jeans.

"I'm not the one undressing me." He pointed out with a roguish grin. She huffed in annoyance and withdrew her hand. He leaned into her and kissed her again, this time letting her drive it, surprised again that such a small figure could have so much force. He found himself suddenly sitting down hard in his battered armchair, his blonde bombshell kissing him in a positive fury, and this time he gave in, hands eagerly sliding under her shirt, almost gasping in delight when they touched her skin. "I missed you so bloody much, Buffy. All day, wanted to touch you here and -" Spike's voice died away abruptly when the back of his hand found a hard crinkly bulge along her side. "What is that?"

"Oh, cookies! From Dawn. The bake sale?" Buffy stood and reached into her inner coat pocket and passed him the lumpy package. Spike stood up, examining it.

"That's sweet. Guess Bit knew you'd be seein' me?" He asked leadingly.

"She packed them just for you." Buffy gave a half-smile.

Think they're safe to eat?" He opened the bundle cautiously and peered inside.

"Yeah, I don't think they're all made by Dawn. And besides, Tara helped." Buffy poked her finger inside and pushed a snickerdoodle to the front. "Here. These are good. My favorite non-chocolate food in the world."

"An' you saved one for me?" Spike nuzzled her cheek suddenly. "You 'ave it."

"No, I ate like five as soon as Dawn came home." She pushed the cookie into his hand. "They're good."

"You really are my girl, aren't you?" He whispered.

"You're my guy?" She felt an unfamiliarly pleasant tingle spread through her. Happiness. I've got a guy. Who won't leave me.

"Any name you wanna call me, Luv, as look as it's something of yours. Your guy. Your man. Your vamp. I'm everything for you."

The cookies were suddenly forgotten, hastily dropped onto the top of the television in front of the chair as there hands scrabbled over each other needily. "I want you. Wanted you all night, and all day." Buffy breathed desperately, admitting it with her eyes closed, suddenly not caring anymore.

"Shh, I'm here. I'll see to you." He bent his knees and picked her up.

"Put me down, I can walk." She insisted. "Not a princess, remember?" He put her down, a thoughtful and regretful look on his face. "Okay! Pick me up, sweep me off my feet if it's gonna be a big deal."

"No, Luv, not that. It's properly dark now." He leaned against her, waists together, eyes meeting. Spike shoved down the fierce desire gripping his loins. Protectin' the innocent was the core of what she did. And as much as he'd like her to just take another night off and give into everything they were feeling, he knew he had to prove that he wasn't going to be a selfish bastard- at least not when lives were on the line.

"Oh. Lots of vamps and baddies waiting?" She sounded small and disappointed.

"Probably not, Pet. Didn't come home until almost light. Killed- I dunno how many, but a_ lot_ of nasties" He hoped she realized that was something he'd done for her. They lived on a Hellmouth, and there'd always be somethin' for her to fight. He was trying to make things easier for her- for a few days anyway. Give her a bit of peace, let her deal with the admissions she was making to herself and her friends. "Found a nest down in the old warehouse district, maybe ten or twelve vamps holed up there. Was gonna take 'em out, but the only reason I even saw 'em was they were all headin' inside before the sun came up."

"You were gonna take on a dozen by yourself?" Buffy felt a surge of fear for him, an almost completely foreign feeling, a feeling she'd only felt a few times in their entire partnership. And then she remembered who she was talking to.

"Well, yeah. Wouldn't you have?"

"Yeah- but- you... I guess you can handle yourself, can't you?"

"The more of 'em the better. But didn't want to got stuck in a soddin' warehouse all day." He shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes locked on his boots. "The best chance of takin' 'em all out is to get 'em just as they wake up. If we wait, some'll be out snackin'."

"Let's go then." Buffy took a steadying breath. Spike held open the door for her and she rolled her eyes, smiling inside.

"I'm not givin' you the brush off. Damn near splittin' my seams for you, an' it bleedin' hurts." He walked uncomfortably.

"You just did the good guy thing, huh?"

"I guess. Sod it." He kicked at a headstone. "Was I about to get you in my bed?"

"I- maybe." She said noncommittally. "Your bed?" The words created a violently graphic picture in her head. Pictures she shouldn't want, but desperately did. Spike's bed. Wanton and wrong, and oh God... "Unmm." A lost little whimper of longing suddenly wheezed out of her lips, and earned her a devilish, lip-licking gaze from her partner.

"Things seem awfully quiet." Spike remarked significantly as they walked to the warehouse district, Slayer and vampire speed and strength in play, propelling them twice as fast as normal humans could move.

"Mmhmm. And Dawn knows I'm patrolling. That I'll be out late." Her voice was tight.

"I'll have you home by midnight, Slayer, if that's what you want. But you're welcome to spend the night."

"I can't spend the night!" Buffy didn't mean to sound as she was ridiculing him, but she handed out the statement with flat, hard, denial. "Not- there. Not that I don't want to." She whispered, letting her hand brush his as they walked.

"You want to?"

"Yes. I want to sleep next to you. I want to wake up next to you. Like we did for the past couple days. I loved it."

His eyes were like torches, and then dimmed. He'd thought she was about to tell him. But he could bide his time. "I'm glad, Pet."

She had said she loved sleeping beside him. That was a high compliment from a woman who claimed that she didn't know if she could even stay for an hour. He knew for a fact that she hadn't always slept beside Captain Cardboard through the whole night. He couldn't count the number of times he'd watched, hidden in the shadow of the oak, to see her sneaking out of her room and out on patrol, a quick slay, and home before the bloke even woke up. White bread. The girl hadn't been satisfied, any arse could see that. She needed someone with stamina. Someone with finely tuned senses, who could feel her stir, feel the bloodlust rise, and quell it, cool the blood by heating it to a boil and letting it overflow, 'til it slowed, and she slept again. That was why he was meant for her.

"You're quiet." She pointed out after the silence lagged for too long. "I don't know what to do when your mouth stops moving. It's unnatural."

"Oh, I'll move it plenty of unnatural ways tonight, Baby." He purred, in a way that made her feel absolutely sinful, and loving it.

"After we get rid of these guys." Buffy let him lead the way once they got into the blackened and gritty underside of Sunnydale's wharves and warehouses.

"I'll take out half faster than you can." He teased with a challenge in his eye.

"Oh, you are so on!" Buffy puffed up with confidence. Together they stalked over to the side of the warehouse and peered into the blackened windows, covered in ten years' worth of grime and taped cardboard. "Urhg. You're definitely one of the Better Crypts and Gardens types. How can they live in this?" Buffy tried to see through the film of filth on the window.

"Not fussy. They kill, they turn, they hoard. Ahh. The good ol' days." Spike gave a deep, reminiscent sigh.

"Spike!" Buffy elbowed him.

"Hey! I'm not doin' it now, doesn't mean I can't think back on some of the fun I had."

"Fun killing people?"

"No, fun makin' an absolutely brilliant mess of a mob an' drinkin' my winnings."

"Same thing." Buffy pointed out.

"I'm not doin' it anymore, alright?" Spike demanded heatedly. "Here, lemme look, you can't see a thing in there."

"I can so!" Buffy moved reluctantly.

"Not like I can, in the dark." He pushed her gently off to the side and gazed in. "Two of 'em are arguin', looks like. But the rest seem to be in there."

"Let's go then." Buffy said with sudden grimness. She waited for the twinge of longing that she had gotten used to experiencing when she fought. Longing for death and heaven vying with survival instinct and guilt that she was supposed to be fighting the good fight, whether she wanted to or not.

"Right you are." Spike agreed, sucked in an unnecessary breath and kicked in the window.

Eleven vamps, two who were in game face and strangling one another, suddenly faced them.

"Spike!" One of the larger males cried. "Is that how you treat an old friend?"

"One hand of poker doesn't make you a friend. Can't even remember your name." Spike snarled.

"Slayer!" One of the females cried.

"Finally noticed me, huh?" Buffy smiled prettily.

"You take her, we'll take him!" The leader gestured one half of the room towards Buffy, and the other to Spike.

Buffy heard the roars of nearly a dozen vamps slipping into their fangs, suddenly feeling like she was in the middle of the big cat house in the zoo. But one cry stood out. One had a touch of rage and swagger that used to make her itch to shove a sapling through his chest, but now made her feel nothing but impressed. Some vamps were in for one hell of a hurt.

Spike seemed to be trying to work off some of his sexual tension through violence and aggression. Not content with simple stakings, he went for the hands on approach. Feet flying, fists sinking into jaws and chests, he knocked half of his foes down quickly, and went straight for neck twists and snaps, roaring over each kill.

But Buffy couldn't pause to admire. She had to get to higher ground. Pick them off better, make it quick. "Up here!" She said smugly, as she took a run and flying leap onto a stack of wooden boxes. Which unfortunately weren't too stable and soon teetered. She crashed with a splintering of wood, and lay there, waiting.

"Buffy? You alright, Luv?" Spike grunted out.

"Fine!" Buffy's eyes and face glowed with mischief as two vamps leaned over her, apparently hoping to see a disabled victim waiting for the finish. "Not what you expected?" She asked cheekily, slipping two splintered pieces of packing crate into her would-be attackers chests.

"I'm down two, how many you got?" Spike called from under a head lock.

"Two! Can't talk now!" Buffy was fending off a couple more.

"Hah! See the advantages of dating a vamp? Never out of breath!" Spike bodily shoved one of his attackers onto a projecting wooden shaft on the wall of the warehouse. "Three!"

"We're not dating!" Buffy reminded him sharply. "And it's a secret!" She threw one vamp on top of another and pulled out Mr. Pointy, making quick work of both of them. "Four!"

"Can't be a secret if it doesn't exist! So which is?" Spike laughed.

"SPIKE!" Buffy's voice sounded genuinely panicked all of the sudden, and he whirled.

"Damn. Knew there were twelve." He gasped, staring at forklift barreling at him, driven by a twelfth, previously unaccounted for vamp. He didn't really have much in the way of options.

"Get off of me!" Buffy grunted in annoyance as one of the female vamps tried to get her in a strangle hold, bare her neck to her fangs.

"Save me some!" One of the other vampires yelled, and Buffy felt herself get angry.

Spike made a split second decision, as some of his best, and stupidest, tended to be. He jumped straight into the open cab of the forklift and tumbled the startled vampire driving it out of the way. "Gang way!" He hollered as he sat up, realizing he couldn't stop it in time- and realizing Buffy was dead in its path. "Move, Luv!"

Buffy tore away from her two remaining attackers and did the same move she'd just witnessed Spike make, lunging up into the open cab, tumbling them both to the ground.

A scream and crunch, followed by twin sprays of dust heralded the end of Buffy's attacking pair. "Must've gotten 'em in the necks." Spike gasped as he pulled her to her feet.

"That leaves a couple more." She panted, heart thudding.

"It should- through there, I reckon." Spike pointed to the crushed opening from whence the machine had come.

"You and your vampire senses." Buffy puffed and shook off her jacket. "You couldn't hear a forklift twenty feet away from you?"

"Couldn't hear anything over your heartbeat." Spike breathed and licked his lips. "Get so hot when you fight, Luv. You know that. You're wet. Here I thought it was only for me."

"It is, idiot!" She tugged her white button down shirt uncomfortably, as if it was suddenly too tight. "You- you look good when you fight, okay?"

"Not nearly as good as you, Pet. Love when you wear your hair down. And when you run. It all streams out behind you an' all I can think is how bad I wanna catch you and make you mine again."

Her breathing quickened, and it wasn't just because they were stepping into a far more dark part of the warehouse, filled with huge reels of cable, and lengths of chain, wooden loading docks casting shadows in the half light of street lamps outside. His words made her weak, made her want him more than she could stand.

"Shhhh." He slid close to her as they walked through the partition. "I've got all night for you, Luv, just let me find out where they've gone."

"Slayer senses rule." Buffy replied, and hurled her stake with deadly accuracy, hearing a clunk of wood and a rush of dust as it connected with a vampire crouching, coiled to spring. "See?" She said triumphantly, turning to Spike- who was no longer beside her, but tracking his own assailant.

"You ruddy great git! Damn near tore my coat!" Spike was berating the vamp who had driven the forklift. "And a forklift? Twelve against two and you use a forklift? Like to fight dirty, do you?" Spike suddenly stopped his verbal assault and yanked the vamp halfway up the wall with one fist around his throat. "We coulda been pals in the old days- if you didn't strike me as bein' a soddin' great idiot." Spike jabbed a stake into his captive and stepped back brushing dust from his hands.

"And then there was one..." Buffy smiled frostily.

"This one's mine." Spike rubbed his hands together.

"No! It's whoever gets there first's."

"Like I said, it's mine." Spike insisted.

"No, you're both_ mine_!" A voice called from above them, as a vampire stepped into sight on a rickety iron loft. "You think you're both so-"

Spike's hand was in his pocket and the folding crossbow was whipped into usable shape and fired before Buffy or the vampire could blink. The vampire exploded and Spike lowered the bow. "Goddamn ham villains."

"Please don't make me remind you about some of the crap I heard you say in the past." Buffy sighed.

"No, when I did it, it was cool. _That _was pathetic."

Buffy laughed and hoisted herself up on the nearest loading dock, looking more like an indoor pier, except for the cavernous, shadowy warehouse surrounding it. "I wouldn't say cool, but it was way more entertaining."

Spike took off his duster and sat beside her, stretching his legs and flexing his back as he relaxed. Buffy's eyes caressed him lustfully. "Hey. Nice outfit." Buffy whispered, softly running a finger long his jean covered knee.

"My new favorite." Spike looked down on his slightly slouchy jeans and his dark shirt, the clothes she has picked out for him. "You look lovely, yourself. Bit hot, though." His finger reached out and caressed her collar.

"I don't know why. Drafty in here." She fiddled with one of the buttons.

"Want someone to keep you warm, Pet?" Spike slid closer, this time trailing his hand across her shapely breasts, finding a slightly raised tip as his fingers hit the fullest part.

"Here? Right now?" Buffy giggled in spite of the entirely serious situation she found herself in.

"No one else here. Probably dusted almost every vamp in the area between my all night shift an' our clash with the daft dozen. Dawn's looked after. I miss you like crazy, you miss me..."

She felt herself falling under him, her hair fanning out and cascading off the edge of the platform as her back hit the solid wood beneath them. "No, we can't." Little protests, even as her hands were peeling off his shirt. She was thrusting her own chest up into his hands, feeling the buttons tugging free as he rained kisses on her upturned face.

"Looked at our pictures all night, Luv. Never thought blue jeans would get me hot, but when you're in 'em..." He growled darkly and slid his hand down to her zipper.

"You look hot in anything." Buffy gasped out as his fingers yanked the zipper down and pushed the soaking crotch of her panties to one side.

"I love you, Buffy." He reminded her.

Her heart was only an organ. The brain was where all the real love, real emotion happened, Buffy reminded herself. So why did her heart feel like it was trying to tear itself open, to let out the three little words she wanted to say to him? Words that she would not be able to say, because that's what drove the men in her life away.

"I love you." He repeated, pale chest rippling as he molded them together, one hand caressing her hair, one hand caressing her nether lips with a light, tender touch.

"I know." Buffy had another momentary struggle with the pain in her chest, all the while berating herself for not being able to control her emotions better. Love is in the brain, not the heart, so no chest pain, she silently ordered her body. "Spike. The heart is only an organ, right? The brain is what recognizes love and emotion."

"I guess so, Luv." Spike kissed his way down her collarbone, lifting her shoulder to ease her white shirt off, get down to the pretty pink undershirt beneath it.

"Your brain is obviously still active. And that's where love comes from-or at least where it gets understood. I wonder why people think you can't love?"

"Maybe they think since we're dead, that our brains no longer get the emotion. No longer get new thoughts. But I do. I moved with the times, but a lot of vamps don't. An' I know I've got a demon, luv, an' that makes me bad. But I've known thousands of bad blokes in my time, human or otherwise, and all of 'em love _something_, even if it's something evil. I get how to love, an' you know it."

"Yeah, I do know it. Now." Buffy wriggled under his touch and eased her hand between their bodies, finding his fly. "You're very loving when you want to be." She gasped as his forefinger found her nub and stroked it.

"So are you, Pet." He closed his eyes and groaned softly as her hands reached into his jeans and teased his hardness into her palm. "I'm never gonna get used to how warm you are on me." He breathed with a satisfied chuckle.

"And I'm used to you starting off cool and getting warmer already." She made a fist around his shaft and stroked him, raising her hips to his hands so that he could push her pants down.

"You make me feel properly alive, d'you know that, Buffy?" He asked seriously, blue eyes razing her green.

She paused before she spoke, licking her suddenly dry lips. Properly alive. That was an interesting term, but she knew what he meant. She knew now, what it was like when the body moves, but the spirit controlling it is just a reluctant passenger. "You make me feel properly alive, too." She confessed in low whisper. "That's so wrong, Spike. So, so wrong."

"I know it is, Luv. I know." He didn't even argue, he knew it was wrong according to her. Although it apparently didn't matter, or else she wouldn't be stroking him as he was warming her up with his slow, deliberate finger strokes. And he didn't try to convince her it was right. Hell, _he_ thought it was wrong, but he didn't give a damn. Besides, when he considered it, turning to the white hats was his biggest rebellion of all, and therefore acceptable. An' he was still gettin' his violence on. Plus _this_. "But you're happier now, aren't you, Pet?"

"Yes." She admitted sulkily. "Stupid vampire." She muttered, and he just laughed.

"Yes, bloody, bloody, stupid." Each word punctuated by a nibble across her shoulder and down to her cleavage.

"Someone's going to walk in on us." Buffy moaned as her head lolled back.

"You wanna stop, Luv?"

"No, I'm jut preparing myself for mortifications to come."

"I'll be quick, if you like." He teased with a malicious half smirk, eyebrow arching.

"Don't you dare!" She cried. He was still lying sideways over her, his left hip above her right, jean covered legs tangling as the fabric bunched just below their hips.

"I'm gonna see to you here, an' then take you home with me." He purred. "An' keep seein' to you all night." He pushed himself up on his curled palms, neck craning over hers, lips just about to brush hers. "Want me inside, Pet?"

"Yes." Her hands stroked down his pale back to just above his hips. "If you want me around you."

"More than anything." He maneuvered one leg over, and she worked their pants down a bit farther. They were both wearing boots, and there was no way she was going to break the clinch they were in to worry about the niceties of where clothes went. She didn't need anything creative, just him inside her, right now. "I love you."

She pulled him down to her mouth and stared in his eyes. "And you know what I think." She whispered before their lips crashed into one another's hungrily.

Tight, hard, quick. All adjectives that went blowing through his mind. There wasn't a lot of room on the edge of the dock, plus the constrictions of pants. And he wasn't complaining. He loved being in her so deep, their bodies in such close contact. And there was no resistance to him, not a bit. She loved him, she wanted him. Sometimes he thought if he just kept working away at her, giving more and more of himself, suddenly she would forget herself, cry it out. Funny how he was so hungry for words, when he had all this, this beautiful girl under him and around him, eyes drowning him and lips owning him. But words implied you knew what you were saying and thinking, that you really meant it. He and Buffy were always all about the actions, the flirting looks, the quick punches, the vicious dances that were only about their bodies._ I want her heart, as well._

How can he look at me like that? Like I'm something special, but I don't feel "Chosen One" special. Just loved special? Whatever it is, it makes me want him more, love him more."Spike." She uttered with a sudden arch of her spine, and locked her walls around him, letting her hips do the work, holding him still with her hands pressing into his lower back.

"Good, Luv?"

"Mmm! Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhhhhh." The last a deep rush of air that fairly shook him.

"So, you did miss me?" He teased with a gentle smile.

"Shut up." She laughed softly and relaxed around him. "You're wonderful."

"I am?" He was so startled he forgot to resume his steady thrusts, and stared at her mesmerized.

"Yes!" Buffy blushed. "You know that, Mr. Sex Machine."

"Oh. Thought you meant-" He shrugged and leaned her forehead onto hers, a resigned sigh escaping him.

"I did. I did mean wonderful, in all ways. All the ways that count, anyway." She rubbed his shoulders comfortingly. "You're really good to me, Spike. Good to us. Annoying as hell, but- well, I guess Dawn can be like that, too, and I still love her." She laughed.

"Sayin' you love me, Pet?" She looked suddenly nervous, and retaliated- kissing him breathless, making him forget anything but the heat she was creating, stroking him with her slick muscles, dragging low moans out of him. But he wasn't to be distracted from his question for long. "Just like to know, means somethin' to me." He gasped out.

"You know I do." She cupped his strong jaw between her equally strong thumb and forefinger, training his eyes on hers. "Look in my eyes and tell me you can't see it." She ordered fiercely, a low hiss. She was crossing her bridges, the things she feared.

God, she believes it. She believes it, for real, or she wouldn't fight for it, an' that was her fightin' tone. "I believe you. Pet." He whispered. Her arms moved from his back to his neck, criss-crossing and clawing passionately, dragging his head beside hers. Breathy little moans signaled she was about to cum again, and he raced to fulfill her needs.

"Cum with me." Her lips formed the words against his ear, sending a ripple through him. "Now. While I'm thinking it."

He felt her explode around him and he exploded inside her. He bellowed out a half-human roar, his entire body crashing to hers as they knocked the rest of the world out of the way for a few seconds of unadulterated bliss. He was perilously close to vamping, and the one millimeter of his brain with any self-control left knew that would not be well received. His second cry was more of a heave. One of his fists broke through the loading dock as he channeled the primal urge to release his fangs into someplace else.

"Wow." Buffy gasped as she felt herself flooded and heard the crunch of wood. How freaking awesome is it that he's strong as me? Her boot heels had actually dug deep gouges in the wood and the combined effort of their thrusting hips had caused an alarming dent in the platform.

"Bloody great wow." Spike agreed. He waited for her signals, a "push away" indicated with a brisk joke, or a "cuddle me" indicated by her keeping his body near hers.

"Mmm, Spike." She snuggled happily beside him. "Can you make the rest of the world stay out for a more minutes?"

"Sod off world." He chuckled softly, head on hers.

"Your new jeans are ruined." She said with a cat-like stretch.

"No, they're washable. Might not wash them for a bit, though. Love this scent. You an' me scent."

"Gross." She nibbled his earlobe.

"Then why you nippin' me?" Spike demanded playfully.

"Because you happen-" A horrendous groan interrupted her. "What was that?"

"Well, don't look at me, my stomach isn't growlin'. I drank two pints of blood last night, plus Tara's roast beef." The groan was now a creak. "I dunno what that is, but it-"

The pair fell to the ground with a splintering crash, still joined and emitting a piercing shriek.

"Oww." Buffy rubbed her bottom as they untangled themselves and looked at the wreckage that was once a loading dock. "Spike! What'd you do?"

"Why do I get blamed?" He shouted, cinching up his jeans against the debris.

"'Cause you punched a hole in the thing!"

"Oh." Spike admitted the truth of this. "Must've hit a support- yep, that'd be it." He surveyed the damage more critically and found the beam holding up the front corner of the dock was shattered.

"This is never gonna work." Buffy said suddenly.

"I did offer to take you home to a nice comfy bed, Slayer, but-"

"No! This. Everything this." Buffy gestured to the warehouse as a whole, but her eyes said that it wasn't just the destroyed building she was referring to.

Spike froze, hands in the midst of locating his shirt in the rubble. "What? Buffy, you just told me, not in so many words, but still, that you love me. An' I love you! Soddin' hell, Luv, you can't ignore this, even the demon broad could see that my love for you is eternal, an' -"

"Oh, no, not that! The love works, the love's totally there." Buffy waved her hand dismissively.

"You are a beautiful an' infuriatin' creature." Spike growled. "If the love works, what the hell is your problem?"

"Spike, look at us! We just killed a dozen vampires and destroyed public property for a date!"

"We don't date." He threw her own words back at her.

"For- for foreplay then! We wreck things while we're having sex."

"Never did before." He reminded her.

"It's not normal! Spike, we can't pretend this is normal!" She stood beside him in exasperation.

"You won't be 'normal' with or without me, Slayer. But with me at least you can pretend." He grabbed her arms hard and swung her to face him. "No more games!"

"I'm not playing! I- I know we can make it work, now... but it can't last. It can't last, and I guess I only just realized it when I-" She looked up at him with quickly overflowing eyes. "When I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so bad- and then I saw my life flash in front of me- and you can only stay in it for a little while. Even if you don't want to leave, someday you'll have to."

"Baby, a little while is better than nothing, init?" He soothed, holding her closer, more gently.

"Not to me." She whispered.

"Well, then let me stay! Don't make us end it after a bit." He pleaded.

"Me end it? No! Not either of us. Circumstances end romances like this, Spike. Angel always told me -"

"Told you what? What'd he tell you, and then you tell me why you were daft enough to still believe him, when you know what he can do."

"He made sense. I don't like it, but he made a lot of sense, and-"

"And this is one more, last ditch effort to push me out, Luv. An' I'm not budgin'." Spike told her defiantly. "You're slammin' on the breaks before you go over that cliff, but Buffy," He smoothed her hair and rested his hand on the back of her neck. "Remember you an' me, an' cliffs? We fall down 'em, come back up muddy an' sore, but better than ever."

She wavered but she didn't cave. "There are things you can't sweet talk away." She finally gave voice to her pained thoughts.

"You sure? Let me have a go. Let me have one go, an' if I can't help solve whatever's worryin' you, I won't leave, but I'll let you keep denyin' whatever you want to deny."

She fought down an embittered outburst. Didn't he know she wasn't _trying_ to deny anything? Least of all not something she had finally admitted to herself, after weeks of trying not to at all costs? It was just that some things are undeniable. "The love is there. I get that. Sometimes I wish I didn't, but I do. But what about old age? You'll stay young and beautiful. Like Melissa said. But me, not so much."

Spike almost guffawed, but realized that would end with him missing a limb, or worse. "Pet. Honestly? I already look older than you, an' I daresay you'll be pushin' 40 from the wrong side before we need to worry about it. You're so beautiful, Buffy, that no one'll look twice at us for years. They'll think you can get any man you want, older, younger, it won't matter." Her face remained mulish and he pressed home, this time allowing a small laugh to escape as he began to speak. "I already die my hair one color. What's a different shade, white or gray, gonna matter to me, as long as I'm with you?"

"Hair color is one thing, even looking like I'm the hot older woman with my boy toy isn't going to matter when I hit fifty something. Not that Slayers live that long-"

"You will. You've lived longer than any of 'em, 'cause you don't go by the soddin' rule book. An' that's another good reason to stay with me, Pet. I'm your back up, aren't I? Gonna keep you around this sorry planet as long as you enjoy it."

"Okay... but from the purely 'ewww' factor, I can't see my seventy year old self wanting to be wheeled around by my hot young- significant other." Wow with a helping of wiggins. When had she started thinking long-term relationship?

"I'm not into looks myself. Don't mind agin' myself up. Not like Mel. If age keeps me with what I love, I'm all for it. Thousands of ways to conjure my appearance, or even change it permanently." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Luv, I haven't seen my face in a century. What do I care what it looks like, long as you're lookin' back at me?"

She knocked him over in her haste to kiss him, so moved by his words, and the sincerity behind them. "Do I pass?" He asked, once his lips were free.

"No." She sniffled, and sat back up. "So we can look normal. But we could never be normal- no, I get that we won't be anyway, but I mean, with all the trimmings." She chose her words very carefully now, walking a mental tightrope. "There are things humans and vampires can't give each other."

"You mean kids an' such?" He puffed that away with a derisive laugh. "Please, Luv. You? You want a runny-nosed little thing hangin' round your leg? You can barely tolerate lookin' after Niblet's day-to-day things."

"That's not true! I love Dawn. I love her more than ever!" Buffy shouted.

"I know, Luv. But if you had to choose to do it, would you want the job for another eighteen years?"

"I admit I'm not a kid person. But people change. There's this whole biological clock thing they kept threatening us with in health class, and it kinda scarred me for life."

Spike put an affectionate arm across her shoulders, and put his head close to hers. "I'm not big on children myself. But if you want 'em, you're healthy. No reason you can't carry one. You'll get sperm from someone." He shrugged nonchalantly, and she frowned at him. "What?"

"You? You wouldn't care that I'm having another man's baby? Mr. Possessive- Obsessive- Stalker vamp?"

"Not as if you were cheatin' on me to get it. Would be somethin' medical, an' I wouldn't deny you anythin', Luv, that helped you. That didn't involve tumblin' with some other bloke."

"But the hypothetical child would be there for years. It wouldn't be like you had to tolerate it for one doctor's visit." She pointed out.

"I'll love it 'cause it's yours." He said staunchly. "But I refuse to change nappies." That made her serious facade crack and he smiled. "Knew I could get a grin."

"Death." She said as the laugh died from her lips. "The permanent kind. The natural kind. When I'm old. You'll still be here."

"No. I won't be, Luv." Spike turned her head to look him fully in the eye. "When we're a little old slayer an' little old vamp in a nursing home- an' you kick it," He kept his tone serious, but his words light. He'd already lived through one of her deaths and he couldn't face one more. "An' you kick it- I'll just sleep with the blinds open that day. Okay? Problem solved." His voice shook as he felt his throat getting that unswallowable lump in it. "But I don't want to think about that, Luv."

She found that she felt no pleasure in thinking of it either, and curled deeper under his arm, head pillowing on his hard but comforting shoulder. "You would do that?"

"Don't know if I can go where you're headed, Luv. No soul. But would rather rot in hell an' take a risk that I might be able to fight my way to where you've gone, than live without you. Did that once. Would've done it again- gave you the chance, but as soon as Bit was gone- I'd be huntin' for you, Precious."

"Eternal. Unconditional." Buffy unconsciously muttered Melissa's words. "Maybe she told the truth. About everything. About the models. About the- heavenly realms?"

"Maybe." Spike whispered, pain in his throat growing.

"Not that I want to find out now." Buffy reassured him. She slowly dragged her tired body to its feet. "C'mon. Comfy bed was promised."

"So it was." Spike hunted up his coat and hers and they both spent a moment trying to find her white shirt.

"What about papers? You couldn't even get into a nursing home. Or anything officially." Buffy shook out her shirt once they'd located it, and pushed her arms through it, hating the gritty feeling of vampire dust and warehouse crud on her skin.

"Papers? Please, Slayer, we're back to buggerin' papers? After agin', children, an' death?" Spike threw his arms wide and looked up at the cloudy sky as they made their way from the building. "There's a vampire god somewhere up there, an' he's laughin' himself sick over us. Papers!" Spike looked at her with a face torn between down right amusement and annoyed anger. "You drive me mad, an' I think you enjoy it."

Her smile showed she clearly did, but her serious eyes and crossed arms told him he needed to give her an answer. "Sweetlet- I once bought an unassembled ancient demon killed durin' the crusades. An' I could buy you a live tiger or a dead dinosaur. I could buy a soddin' human kidney! You think I can't wrangle some false documents?" Spike seized her hand possessively as they headed back towards his crypt, not giving a damn who saw them together.

"Spike-" She began, and he stopped her with a barking laugh.

"Every objection you can think of, I have an answer for. Keep throwin' 'em, Pet. I like a challenge." She gave up and laughed with him, fingers tightening on his. "Only one objection I can't think how to get out of." Spike was suddenly serious, and they stopped in mid step. He turned to her, and pressed his hand to her cheek. "That's if you don't love me. Or want me in your life."

She caught her breath. No one ever asked her to think like this before. With Angel she'd been blinded by love and assumed things. With Parker, there'd been no time to get to this stage. And with Riley, he was the one with the assumptions. "We have to take things slow." She said noncommittally.

"Of course." He replied. Silly inscrutable woman, unreadable sometimes...

She looked up at him and smiled. "It's pointless me telling you to stick around, 'cause I can't rid of you. I've tried."

"True, Pet."

"So how about if I tell you that I plan to stick around?" She offered.

"I'd love that. I love you." He let his fingers trail up to her temple, caressing her hair.

It was time to be brave again. The hardest thing to do in this world is live in it. If you live in it, you have to face what's cold and hard and real. Things that don't make sense. You have to let yourself feel, and hurt, and love. If you found enough love, it was like a reminder of what heaven was like, and you could be strong until it was time to go back. "I love you too, Spike." She whispered, before she watched the fireworks explode in his eyes and his smile, and he swung her up in his arms in a whirlwind kiss.

He put her down, and laughed, deep in his chest, a loud ringing, happy laugh like she'd never heard, and was surprised to hear herself letting go and laughing along with him.

So that's the end, she thought. Of some things. They exchanged a glance and quickened their pace, laughing, breaking into a run, heading towards their own safe haven. And it's the beginning of some new ones...


End file.
